To New Heights
by District11-Olive
Summary: "You're fighting the fear drops of sweat on the shirt, as your knuckles in white, close your eyes make it worse." Welcome to the 38th Hunger Games! Rated T for violence.
1. Do Not Blink Part One

_Looking down, your mind hits the bottom through your eyes do not blink. _

_Adrenaline flows as you stand on the front of your feet, on your toes. _

_Knuckles in white grasping rail tight, as you look to the bottom of your mind's fear of height. _

_You're fighting the fear drops of sweat on the shirt, as your knuckles in white, _

_Close your eyes make it worse._

Head Gamemaker POV

I rub my eyes once more in a desperate attempt to wipe away the signs of insomnia. I have not slept in days, only have I sat in my study perfecting my plans.

This will be my third year as Head Gamemaker. It is a surprise I have made it this long and I am not expected to stay much longer. President Snow has gone through at least seven Head Gamemakers since he became President of Panem thirteen years ago. He expects perfection and originality. Give him another boring forest arena and you will not last the month with your head still attached to your neck.

It's a good thing this arena is not your typical forest.

The fingers of my left hand tap nervously against the grey of my pant leg while my other hand clutches the holographic projector on which my plans are stored. My very best idea and this time he will be impressed. Last year was just a test of boundaries, an indoor arena.

I just barely escaped with my head.

This year will be better, I am confident in that.

"Sir, the President will see you now," A smartly dressed woman addresses me and leads me down a dim hallway before stopping at a heavy frame door. Slowly she opens the door and ushers me in, leaving me to stand stiffly in the closed doorway of the President's office.

"Corvius, please sit," a rough voice comes from the back facing chair in the far corner of the large room. The unmistakable voice of the most influential and powerful man in Panem.

I lower myself into the hard wood chair that sits opposite the President's desk and place the holographic projector on his desk. At the small _knock _it makes on the wood the chair spins around to reveal the stoic face of President Snow.

I bow my head respectively and a small grin comes to my face when I note the look of interest on his face. His eyes play towards the device on his desk.

"What have you brought for me this year?" His voice is shockingly calm but the undertone is threatening, warning me that another small failure would end me right here. It is not to late to replace me before the start of this year's Games.

My finger traces the largest button on the device before finally pushing inwards, immediately the cap flips open and a three dimensional model of the arena is projected above the desk.

The distaste on his face is evident and I know my time is ticking to impress him. The projection zooms in with the touch of my finger, focusing in on the different aspects that lie within the trees. His eyes soften slightly and I can see the beginnings of a smirk playing on the end of his mouth.

"This could prove interesting, make it happen Corvius," he says before turning back around in his chair, dismissing me.

I cannot help the grin that curls on the edges of my lips as I press the button to bring the hologram back into my device. This will be the best Hunger Games yet.

**A/N: This is my new story To New Heights, I am not accepting tributes because I will be using the ones from my previous story that I have decided to discontinue. **

**The blog for this Hunger Games will be up soon! I will post the link on my profile when it is ready!**

**Welcome to the 38****th**** Hunger Games, To New Heights!**


	2. Do Not Blink Part Two

_Looking down, your mind hits the bottom though your eyes do not blink. _

_Adrenaline flows as you stand on the front of your feet, on your toes. _

_Knuckles in white grasping rail tight, as you look to the bottom of your mind's fear of height. _

_You're fighting the fear, drops of sweat on the shirt, as your knuckles in white, _

_Close your eyes make it worse._

**The Tributes**

**District One**

Male: Zircon Spinel, 18

Female: Gem Smoke, 16

**District Two**

Male: Hunter D'Agosto, 16

Female: Athena Roddrick, 17

**District Three**

Male: Bolt Fresia, 17

Female: Sparks Jadestone, 17

**District Four**

Male: Fin Aquil, 18

Female: Marina Crest, 17

**District Five**

Male: Sonic Poller, 14

Female: Aras Horndon, 12

**District Six**

Male: Chevy Axel, 13

Female: Margi Perrin, 15

**District Seven**

Male: Dusty Abernathco, 14

Female: Echo Osuushi, 16

**District Eight**

Male: Sewn Carpets, 15

Female: Lacey Thim, 16

**District Nine**

Male: Faction Papers, 17

Female: Buttercup Rhodes, 17

**District Ten**

Male: Dustin Shores, 16

Female: Sage Rosse, 14

**District Eleven**

Male: Barley Haystack, 17

Female: Chrysanthemum Dyme, 15

**District Twelve**

Male: Channing Keynes, 18

Female: Kindra Crimson, 14

**The blog is now up and running- www . tonewheightshg33 . blogspot . com -(take out the spaces)**

**Now it's time for first impression voting! Once I have received all or at least most of the votes I will post the next chapter. Here is how the voting system works:**

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**Voting will help me to choose bloodbath deaths as well as the tributes who make it farther and who gets more writing, though the Victor will be chosen by me alone.**


	3. New Blood

_So they marched me down to the centre of town,_

_With their pitchforks high in the air._

_I was chained and bound with a blindfold around_

_So the judge wouldn't catch my stare._

**Jayde Atlas: District One Mentor**

I sit in the chair of honor set out for me and the other Victors of District One, today is the Reaping, today I will yet again be forced to mentor a pathetic excuse for a trainee. Last year I chose to mentor the male, the very boy who was ruthlessly killed by the pair from District Three.

_District Three _took down my tribute. How embarrassing.

This year I will not make the same mistake, I will mentor a winner. If no winners are chosen than I will make them a winner. Failure is not an option, my reputation as a Victor is at stake.

The Victor of the 7th Hunger Games sits next to me in the special area reserved for this year's mentors. He is quite old, nearly twenty years my senior, and I was not around for his Games. Though I really should make time to watch them, I hear they were entertaining.

By now the video is almost over and I find my eyes flittering over the crowd of children. I wonder who will be the tributes this year? Surely a pair from the training centre, no less, but will they be ready? They had better be, I cannot take another year of being known as a failure.

Before the slip has even been clutched by the white gloved hand of District One's escort a black haired female steps forward with a sickly sweet smile on her pale face. She walks ceremoniously up to the stage and stands beside the escort.

"What is your name dear?"

"Gem Smoke," she replies, her voice dripping with what I can only describe as mystery.

That girl, she is whom I want to mentor, this year I will have a winner.

Another volunteer is chosen from the male's section, a tall boy with sandy colored hair and light eyes. He smirks the whole walk up to the stage and even throws a wink or two into the audience.

This is the stereotype of District One, it is not matter we are usually beaten out for the title by a District Two.

**Lyme Roque: District Two Mentor**

I can't stop myself from staring at the escort, a woman with vibrant purple hair and eyes the color of peaches. She is new this year, the last five years at least we have had a male escort by the name of Livinder Gerome, he was quite the character himself with his white accents and devilish grin. Perfect for District Two.

Milo Jay sits in the chair on my right side, face a passive display of very little emotion. I remember him from when I was a tribute, he was my district partner's mentor but I could tell by the way he looked at me that he knew I would come out victorious.

It has been only a year since I won the Hunger Games but I still can feel the tension in my limbs and the feeling of being watched. It's invigorating but at the same time disturbing, though it makes me the perfect mentor for this year's lucky tribute.

Milo had already claimed the male tribute, as he has every year he has been mentor.

For the first time in my life I actually hear the escort announce the name on the slip, every other year a cry of volunteering has been shouted from the crowd. I am confused but then I remember my district partner.

He was a strong boy, top student under myself in the Academy, he volunteered for the Games at age 18, just like myself. On day thirteen his alliance turned on him, he was mauled and his pretty face was hardly recognizable when he returned. There will be no eager volunteers this year.

"Hunter D'Agosto."

A boy about sixteen or seventeen years of age with blonde hair strides up to the stage in a confident manner. He is obviously not a trainee but still he manages to compose himself and look confident. I flash a sly smile to Milo, once again he will not bring home a Victor.

I wait on the edge of my seat as a chorus of shouts come from the crowd of eligible females. Thank goodness my tribute will at least have training, it will make my job of surviving much easier. I mean her job of surviving.

Finally a tall, fair skinned girl with narrow blue eyes mounts the steps and takes a place beside the escort who looks absolutely overwhelmed. When asked her name she replies simply that her name is Athena Roddrick.

Athena Roddrick, Victor of the 38th Hunger Games, has a nice ring to it don't you think?

**Beetee Wyre: District Three Mentor**

Mentoring is just like being in the Hunger Games all over again. You pour every ounce of knowledge and every bit of advice into your tribute in the hope that they may come back alive. This is my third time mentoring and I have learned that they rarely do.

The hardest year I had ever mentored was when Tesla, who now sits beside me, won. I was not her mentor, had refused to help her. She has been just fourteen at the time, no one younger that fifteen had ever won before.

I hadn't even wanted to know her name, I knew it would just join the list of names that I had failed.

But she had come back, she was smart and she was able to come back. My own tribute had died by her means but yet I still felt overjoyed that she had won. Now the fourteen year olds know that it can be done. Though anything under that still has little hope.

"Sparks Jadestone!"

A voice rings out among the silent crowds of District Three. The masses of females parts to isolate a girl with bright red, frizzy hair and emerald eyes as round as saucers. She looks around and I would think she was about to try to run for it.

A few seconds later her face transforms into a look of serenity, the girl smirks to herself and mounts the stage, placing herself next to the male escort, a look of disgust at the man present on her face.

"Bolt Fresia!"

A panicked looking boy from the seventeen year old section is brought forward by the now impatient Peacekeepers. Once they have delivered him to the bottom of the steps he takes a moment to look back before he shakily mounts the stairs. Once on stage I can feel the tension within him and see he is noticeably wobbling and his eyes have not yet returned to their normal size.

"I want the boy," a whisper comes from my left and I nod quickly. If she wants the boy she can have him. Though something is not right with Sparks, she at least seems able to hold her own.

**Mags Lykin: District Four Mentor **

For years the Reaping has been the same, I sit here and watch as two teenagers volunteer to give away their lives for a government that couldn`t care less about them. These kids have been brainwashed into believing in the Hunger Games, just as I was all those years ago.

I cannot blame them though, wasn`t the sole reason I volunteered to bring fame to myself and honor to my family? I was young then, only eighteen, but I believed in what I had been taught.

A young girl is selected first, she does not appear completely helpless but I can recognize the fear in her innocent brown eyes. She knows that there are years without volunteers and she fears for her own life. It reminds me of my elder sister, who was reaped at the young age of thirteen only to be saved by a girl who sought the same fame I won.

"I volunteer!" The voice of a female echoes through the crowds with the force of a thunder cloud. A petite girl with auburn hair and tanned skin emerges from the crowd and makes her way up the stairs to join the escort onstage.

"And what is your name sweetie?" The escort asks, her voice suddenly even more enthusiastic, if that was at all possible.

"Marina Crest, Victor of the 38th Hunger Games," she replies coolly, a smirk playing on the curls of her lips.

Before the slip is even pulled out of the bowl a surge of males rush forward in a unison battle cry. A tousle begins just below the steps and the escort looks on with excitement, obviously knowing that whoever comes out of that fight will be a good

Finally a boy with bronzed skin and green eyes and hair that is a brown color with streaks of blonde that appear natural, unlike the odd highlights present on the escort's colorful head. He gives Marina a playful nudge before stepping in front of the microphone.

"I am Fin Aquil and I am here to give Miss Victor here a run for her crown," he says with a quick wink towards the mentors.

Immediately Bryn leans over to me and tells me the boy is his. That is just fine with me, I'd prefer the girl any day.

**Avani Joik: District Five Mentor**

The two children on stage look completely helpless, yet their small bodies remain still as if trying to give off an air of confidence.

The smallest is a girl of twelve named Aras with pale skin and dark hair. She looks out above the crowds with her lips forming a perfect "o" and her brown eyes the size of saucers. She had to be lead up to the stage by a couple of white clothed Peacekeepers because her tiny legs refused to propel her towards the stage.

The boy who stands on the opposite side of the escort is a boy only slightly taller than Aras with shaggy black hair and eyes so dark they look like two large pupils. When his name was called her steadily made his way out of the fourteen year old section, though his legs were noticeably wobbling.

Verge leans over to me, alcohol easily recognizable on his breath. I remember when I was reaped and he was my district partner's mentor. He never could meet my gaze but that has changed. There are barely any Victors from Five so the few of us that are here are close. We each carry with us the pains of the Hunger Games and the lasting guilt that has survived with us. For me it has been twenty-nine years and still I can hear the small boy's shrieks as my wild eyes trained my weapon on his heart.

There isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret that move, the move that ultimately won me the Games.

"Which do you want?" His voice slithers into my ear like a snake, I can feel his warm breath on my cheek and I have to turn away to keep from vomiting.

I look at both of the tributes with a critical eye, Sonic is the obvious choice but he seems, off somehow, whereas Aras gives off a relatively calm exterior despite her small size and age.

"The girl," I whisper back, careful to keep my nostrils turned away from his putrid breath, "I want the girl."

**Maize Ford: District Six Mentor**

Colm sits in the chair beside me, staring directly in front of him as though in a trance. A trance though is a temporary thing, Colm has been like this for years, eight years to be exact. He began taking morphling as an escape route two years after he won the Hunger Games. He was only eighteen years old when it began, now he is twenty-six and I haven't heard him speak for months.

Colm is only twenty-six years old though his appearance claims him as much older. His brown hair is greasy and falls limply to his ears and his skin is a sickly yellow color with his skin sagging around his eyes and cheeks.

When I had looked in the mirror I had recognized a similar figure in my own reflection. I too had turned to morphling for it helps to ease the pain of my nightmares. I began just two years ago at the age of twenty-nine, so I am able to function on a regular basis. Colm requires my assistance to do almost everything, even dress himself on most days.

My eyes snap up to look at the stage once again to look at the girl whom Colm will be mentoring. She has long brown hair and deep brown eyes and goes by the name of Margi Perrin. She stands on stage next to the much shorter boy with a triumphant smile plastered on her face.

It's almost like she thinks she has a chance.

I look once again at the tribute it will be my duty to mentor, Chevy Axel. A young boy who I believe is thirteen, with dark eyes and messy black hair. He stands on stage shaking and wide-eyed, occasionally he will glance up to the escort but his gaze will almost immediately return to the ground.

At least he knows his fate.

**Ander Pine: District Seven Mentor **

I stand facing the doorway to the train where the two new tributes will soon enter. My dark eyes trained on the metallic door, my gaze does not waver and I can feel the tension within the cart. Aspen and I had decided many years ago that we would let the tributes decide who would mentor them.

Since it is their lives on the line I feel like we owe them that privilege.

Finally the door _whooshes _open and the tall escort woman enters the train. She gives me a sickly sweet smile and sits down with her feet crossed at the ankles. Behind her a girl with slanted dark eyes and straight black hair walks on with a cautious look on her face. I remember her well from the Reaping, she was the one who looked as calm as if she were just about to make a presentation in class. Her name is Echo Osuushi.

The boy that walks in behind her is Dusty Abernathco, he is fourteen years old but by his height you would think him older. When he was chosen the most he gave was an expression of disappointment before his face turned to an unreadable mask.

"Who would you like as your mentor?" Aspen says in a mechanical voice, almost as if it pains her to speak to the two children.

"Your letting us pick, I thought it was predetermined?" Echo retorts, raising an eyebrow at Aspen who doesn't meet her gaze.

"We usually let the tributes pick," I offer, allowing my fellow mentor to once again fade into the background where she very much prefers it.

"Well than I want you," Echo tells me and moves to sit in a chair by the window, ushering me over to join her. Dusty takes the hint and retreats into the corner to stand by Aspen.

"What kind of skills do you have Echo?" I ask the real questions, I am not one to bead around the bush. I want to bring her home, that is my job.

And I take my job very seriously.

**Twill Flax: District Eight Mentor**

"So which one of you will be my mentor?" The redheaded boy named Sewn asked bluntly. I have discovered a lot about this fifteen year old since seeing him at the Reaping.

When his name was called he asked if he had to go up there. Funny kid. That little stunt should definitely earn him some sponsor points though it did nothing to formulate a relationship between him and Percephine, District Eight's escort of ten years.

"I will be," I say, my small voice echoing through the silent cart. I never really had been able to take myself out of the arena. Speaking above a whisper is foreign to me, as doing so would have gotten me killed.

We are humans and therefore we adapt to survive.

Sewn's eyes examine me and I feel suddenly self-conscious, he looks at me with a look that could almost be disgust. As if he doesn't believe this broken remaining body of a former tribute could possibly help him.

And maybe he is right. In all the years that I have mentored I have not brought one tribute home. Only once have one of mine made it through the Bloodbath and even so she was killed just two days later.

I am unable to deal with my own pain, even Woof who is drunk ninety percent of the time can at least give some advice. Maybe if I found some way to dull my pain I would be of more use to Sewn and the others.

But I can't do that to myself, my body has already been through hell and I just can't bring harm upon myself. Not when I came so close to dying.

Woof places his large arm around Lacey's shoulder. Almost instantly her body tenses and her eyes grow wide. She looks just as she did during the Reaping, stiff and unsure, though I would not expect her to be anything less.

I look once more at Sewn, his red hair falling over his eyes and his back hunched as he leans over a plate of pasta. Maybe I couldn't help the others but I can help him.

**Ware Kindl: District Nine Mentor**

"Would you like something to eat you two?" Quince coos from behind where I stand. Most of the time we have spent on this train with the tributes she has been trying to engage Faction in some sort of conversation.

"No thank you," the girl, Buttercup replies with her eyes looking down at some fascinating spot on the wood table. The girl at least seems polite enough, though I don't have high hopes for her in the arena.

I give her one minute, two tops.

"Faction? Anything for you dear?" Quince tries again, it is the same play every year. How long will it take her to realize that no one here needs someone to remind them of their families? The less we bring up District Nine the better. There is nothing worse than having to listen to homesick stories for a trip halfway across Panem.

This year Quince told me she would like to mentor Faction. She just cannot stand the thought that someone could resist her "charm" and "motherly nature" and Faction has done just that. Buttercup looks as though she won't be too much trouble, though I don't plan on getting to know her.

The last time that happened was my second year of mentoring when I was assigned to a twelve year old female by the name of Noa, she had brown hair and big brown eyes that looked up at you with hope. When she made it through the Bloodbath I was filled with hopefulness that maybe, just maybe, I could bring her home.

She was dead by the next week, hung by her neck on the end of a sword that dripped with sticky red paint.

After that I swore I would never get attached to a tribute again.

**Ecru Novie: District Ten Mentor**

"What skills do you have Dustin?" I ask my assigned tribute. He is a rather tall male with brownish blonde hair and irises so dark they blend into his pupils. From the moment I saw him walk up the steps to the stage I wanted to be his mentor. He has a crooked grin and a look of intense interest that intrigues me, he isn't the kind of tribute I am used to mentoring. The sad, desperate, lost type who stare into space, leaving you to wonder what is playing through their minds.

Do they know they are already doomed?

"I'm pretty fast," he begins, talking with his laid back attitude almost as if he can't be bothered with moving his lips. The words come out as a drawl that makes you feel instantly comfortable with him, "and I got decent aim too."

"That's a great start," I say with as much of a smile as I can muster.

In the opposite corner of the cart my eyes follow my mentoring partner. Hunter sits in a chair facing away from Sage who looks just as lost and stunned as she did when she was called up on stage. She seems to be mumbling a few words to either herself or to Hunter, though I would tell her not to waste her breath.

For as long as I can remember Hunter has never wanted to grow attached to his tributes. Though in the more recent years it seems he cannot even bear to look at them. With Sage he has made as little contact as possible, only whispering his name under his breath and then taking a seat in front of the speeding window.

For an instant I lock eyes with the fourteen year old but she immediately averts her gaze back to the floor. With Hunter as my partner it almost feels as though I am mentoring alone.

**Seeder Grove: District Eleven Mentor**

"Quinn?" Barley once again asks his unresponsive mentor.

I would tell him not to waste his time, Quinn has aged and with it the fears and memories have grown. For the last five years I have not heard him speak, not one word to myself of any of our tributes. Though he must continue to mentor, either until he dies or until District Eleven has another Victor.

After nearly an hour on the train Barley pulls me aside.

"Can you mentor Chryssa?" He asks me, "I think it would be better for her."

Tears nearly come to my eyes, perhaps it is just an act but this boy seems to truly care about his district partner Chrysanthemum who sits alone at the dining table, staring into a bowl of soup that I ordered for her but she never touched. Her dark hair hands in wisps to neatly cover her light blue eyes.

"Of course," I reply with a warm smile, "and if you need anything Barley I am here to help."

That was true, it is the same message I had given to most of Quinn's tributes. It is unfair to them that they don't have a mentor capable of even holding a conversation.

I feel bad for Quinn but there are times when I hate him, hate him for leaving me to help these doomed children alone. Hate him for ignoring my pleads with him to at least talk to his tribute. Hate him for getting me out of the arena all those years ago.

**Ridge Kilan: District Twelve Mentor **

"Isn't every district supposed to have two mentors?" Channing says from behind me as I move to pour myself another glass of water. The boy glances over my shoulder with a calculating stare and refuses to sit down even after being on the train for many hours.

Once my glass is full I walk over to the ice bucket and _plunk _three ice cubes into the liquid. I set it down on the table and scoot over until I am sitting across from my other responsibility. She is a young girl of fourteen but the way she sits with her shoulders tucked in and her eyes downcast marks her as far younger. Her long, dark hair hangs around her face and when she glances up as I settle myself I see the remnants of tearstains on her cheeks.

The boy Channing is much larger, he stands to be nearly my height and crosses his arms in front of his chest protectively, as if waiting for someone to make a move against him.

This is not a bad habit to have where he is going.

When I glance sideways at the window I see that we have nearly arrived in the Capitol, attempting to bring some energy into the pair I jump up and plant myself in front of the window.

"Kindra, Channing, look we are almost there."

Kindra obediently rises to her feet and walks cautiously over to join me at the elongated window, as she moves closer her eyes widen in awe and her lips part to form a perfect circle. Her tiny hands grip the window ledge and she stares out at the crowds of Capitolites that have gathered to greet them.

She stares with amazement as the people recognize her and wave giddily in her direction, she manages a tentative smile. The crowd goes crazy, so eager to get even the slightest glimpse of a tribute. They are treated like celebrities, instead of the martyrs they will soon be.

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent, a verse from a song will be at the beginning of each chapter.**

**Song: The Dead Can't Testify**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile.**

**Voting is mandatory on every chapter, otherwise you character WILL be bloodbathed.**

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**You get 5 votes, each worth 1 point. Votes **_**must**_** be submitted through reviews so I can keep track of them.**

**You may NOT vote for your own tribute(s).**

***** I would like to thank my good friend JabberJayHeart for allowing me to use his format and the idea of creating a blog*****


	4. Sky High

_Today I don't feel pretty_

_And I'm tired of trying to fit right in_

_Don't think that you're so great_

_Cause being great must suck_

**Zircon Spinel, 18, District 1**

I awake to a knock on my bedroom door. Groaning I turn over in my bed and attempt to shut out the noise, I really don't want to get up right now so whatever they want it can wait. The knocks become louder and quicker until finally my escort bursts through the door in a panic.

"Zircon!" She shrieks, "You really _must _wake up! We will be arriving momentarily!"

Her voice cuts through my head and I feel like it's going to explode, but I do as she says and get out of bed. I take my time though, who wouldn't want to be fashionably late? I slip out of the clothes that I slept in, now wrinkled and slightly damp, and I glance into my closet that is filled with clothes of all types and fabrics.

After much deliberation I decide on a striking blue, sleeveless shirt and a pair of grey pants that have an elegant look about them. The clothes fit perfectly of course. I walk into my private bathroom that is attached to my bedroom. Once inside I run some water in the sink and splash my face a few times to get the sleep out of my eyes. I find a towel beside the sink and dry off my face before dropping the towel on the floor. I walk back through my room and head out to the dining cart to meet everyone else.

Breakfast had already been served and Gem sits with our mentors and escort, moving her food around on the plate. I sit opposite Gem and try to give her a smug grin which she doesn't see with her eyes trained on her breakfast. Even though she is two years younger than me I still find her attractive. Not in the way I'm attractive of course, with my dazzling eyes and light hair, but in a different way that I can't exactly describe. Sort of in a dark and mysterious way, the way her dark hair flows down her back and her eyes flicker like fire.

"Hurry, hurry!" My escort chatters excitedly, "we'll be at the Training Centre in five minutes!"

**Athena Roddrick, 17, District 2**

I haven't needed much preparation time. Even the team members struggle to find areas of me that aren't already flawless. I don't care much for my appearance but if it will help me get away from these ridiculous people than I am thankful for it.

The man currently brushing my hair with a thick bristled brush and harsh tugs told me his name was Atticus. He has a pinched face and tattoos covering his face and arms. Atticus doesn't seem to speak as much as the other two, Saalia and Belladona.

Saalia works feverishly to polish and perfect my long nails into little rounded tips which she later paints with seaweed green nail polish. She chatters endlessly about herself, from the joy she experienced at being promoted to the excitement of having someone decent to work on. I have heard all about how last year she got stuck with District Three and the female she worked on was just horrid. I think about how she would cope with styling for one of the outlying districts like Twelve. The male that came from that district was coated in coal dust and looked as if he may not have showered in days, possibly weeks.

Belladona on the other hand seems only to care about finding the few faults in my appearance. She points out every bump and blemish, telling me how even the seemingly perfect tributes always have "district tells." She points to a small freckle that is on my right arm and bats her eyelashes as she tells me that if I had been born in the Capitol, no imperfection would overtake my skin. I look at her face, with her blue, feathered eyelashes and three star tattoos that litter the right side of her face. I would rather be from District Thirteen than be from The Capitol. And District Thirteen was obliterated years ago.

For most of the time I just lie there on the prep table, allowing the comments to slide off my body like the water they douse me with.

**Bolt Fresia, 17, District 3**

My feet tap loudly on the metallic floor. How long have I been waiting here? It feels like hours. My mind wanders to my strange district partner Sparks. She seemed normal enough on the train but I can't help but remember the way her face seemed to change so suddenly at the Reaping. From a look of pure terror and fright to one that I could almost describe as glee.

I continue pacing around the room and as they always do my thoughts turn to my family who is waiting for me back home. Volt, my twin sister who has always done so much to provide for the younger kids. With me gone she will be practically by herself. My fourteen year old brother Copper with his sarcastic attitude and determined nature, I wonder if he would help Volt with me gone? Com and Heart, my two youngest siblings though are who I miss the most. The way that Heart would wake me up for the sunrise and Com would tell me each night about his adventures in the district.

A pit of guilt rages in my chest. I am leaving them and they will likely have to see me die.

Never will I be able to forgive myself for causing this much pain in my family. If only I wouldn't have been reaped, if only I could have some control over this thing.

If only I could go home.

The _whoosh _of the automatic door wakes me from my thoughts and I stare with surprise at the man standing in the doorway holding a large black bag.

He grins at me and holds out his hand to shake mine, "I am Gavion and I will be your stylist."

**Fin Aquil, 18, District 4**

I stand next to Marina as the final preparations are made on our chariot. I resist the urge to smooth my wrinkled shorts as I had done three times already. Each time it was necessary for my stylist to fix them because the outfit was _supposed _to be wrinkled. It still bothers me though and I can't help but stare at the seaweed green shorts that perfectly fit around my waist and hug my thighs.

The outfit is incredibly uncomfortable but I had looked in the mirror and it was true, I looked amazing. My neck and parts of my arms are painted in a scale-like pattern and I walk barefoot along the concrete floor. Even my nails have been painted a deep green to suit my outfit.

Marina however looks anything but pleased, though she looks nearly perfect in her own costume, a tight bikini made from seaweed and more of the plant woven into her hair. She looks like she has just stepped out of the sea, even her skin glistens to look moist.

The chariot in front of us is dressed in zany outfits that make them appear crazy already. Both wear matching silver jumpsuits with green lines all around their waists and arms. Their hair is standing on end as if they had been shocked by something. On their skin are more faint, green lines that seem to pulsate. Both tributes look incredibly nervous and I can tell even now that neither of them are Career material.

The tributes from both One and Two look like good allies, though the boy from Two, Hunter, was not a volunteer and by the looks of it he hasn't trained a day in his life. That could be a problem.

A few other tributes stand out to me and one or two of them may make it into our pack to replace the District Two boy. For example the boys from Eleven and Twelve and possibly even Ten. Looks like the lower districts have finally decided to give us Careers some real competition.

Not that that will matter of course.

**Aras Horndon, 12, District 5**

Avani helps me into the chariot on one side as Sonic climbs in the other. The outfit I am wearing makes it difficult for me to even move my legs let alone jump onto a vehicle twice my height. Avani takes one last look at me and cannot suppress a smile.

I'm glad she is amused, I am about to make a fool of myself in front of all of Panem and she chooses to laugh at me? Thanks.

Since we come from the district of power, our costumes are rarely ever memorable or exciting. Most years we wear silver and have disks or lightening rods attached to our heads. I always thought that was ridiculous and begged the stylists to choose something that would be less forgettable. That way maybe District Five would finally get some sponsors and possibly even a Victor.

Be careful what you wish for.

I wear a grey bodysuit that molds as I move and irritates my skin. My hands, face, and any other visible skin are painted a matching grey that holds a touch of sparkles to "light up" our faces. On my head is a dull, yellow-colored hat that looks something like an inflated bubble. I'm supposed to be a light bulb and this hat of mine is manufactured to turn on and off by a clap of the hand.

Even just standing at the door waiting to be let into the City Circle, our hats are beating on and off like crazy. I am beginning to consider jumping off the chariot and making a run for my bedroom when our chariot lurches forward, almost sending me over the railing.

**Margi Perrin, 15, District 6**

The glare never wavers from my face as our chariot rolls out onto the street. In fact this very look has been present since I was forced into my parade costume. I wear a tight black shirt and a skirt that is actually made out of three stacked tires. I look absolutely ridiculous.

My hair is piled atop my head in an intricate design of braids and ponytails that took hours for my prep team to perfect. Across my eyes is two long, black lines that resemble tire tracks and my lips are plumped and painted black to match. My feet wiggle in the high-heeled, knee height boots I also wear. Never in my life have I felt so uncomfortable.

We ride past the cheering crowds, beside me Chevy waves timidly at the crowd and gazes at the bright lights and the luxurious decorations with awe. So naive. Doesn't he realize that the luxuries these people enjoy are at the expense of his family and his district? Not to mention that these crowds contain the very people that are sentencing him to death.

Well I am definitely not going to be the one to tell him. I wish I could be like him and just not know, but I do know and I can't ignore those facts. No matter how hard I try.

We finally pull up beside the District Five chariot, where both of the young tributes look completely overwhelmed by the crowds, not to mention the flashing yellow lights atop their small heads.

A few minutes later the District Sevens join us in their skimpy outfits that are made solely of fallen leaves and their crowns created from twisted vines and branches. District Eight soon follows them and so on until finally District Twelve has joined the eleven other chariots. The little girl is shivering in her tiny bandeau and tight shorts, poor girl, barely fourteen by the look of her and already the Capitol has taken part of her innocence.

"Welcome tributes," a strong voice booms over the speaker. A chill runs up my spine, I would recognize the voice of Panem's President anywhere. He is clothed in his signature black suit, accented with w white rose on the pocket of his jacket. "We salute your bravery, and your sacrifice."

He tells us this as if we are here by choice. While that may be true for five of the tributes present, the majority of us don't want to be here. Being here, in front of the President and the Capitol, just makes it that much more real. Twenty-three of us are going to die.

**Dusty Abernathco, 14, District 7**

"You both did incredible!" Our escort squeaks as Echo and I jump off the chariot, "your outfits are so unique! No one will be able to forget you this year!"

I look down at my costume. While she is true that it is different from most years where out outfits were almost always solely green and this year we wear the colors of fall; red, orange and brown. We are different from most of District Seven but that hardly means a thing. We need to shine over the other districts to get sponsors and tonight I don't think that happened for us.

District One grabbed most of the attention, with their simple white outfits and their bodies shining like gems. District Two was the classic, ruthless and brutal tributes that always seem to be the Capitol's favourite. Even the little pair from Five outshone us, literally, with their ridiculous light bulb costume. No, tonight we did not stand out like we were supposed to.

I look over to see the District Eleven pair getting off their chariot, the large boy smiles at me and I almost feel compelled to return the grin. I don't though. I have no idea if his smile is genuine and I have no way of telling. It's best to steer clear of most of the tributes, especially ones like him who look like they could snap your neck with one hand.

"Let's head upstairs now Dusty," I look to my right to see that only my mentor, Aspen remains. Echo and Ander must have already went upstairs, "you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

Yes, tomorrow, our first day of training. I'm nervous because I have not decided what I want to do yet. I think I might want to align with Echo because she seems like she would know what she is doing, but everyone else? I have no idea.

We walk into an elevator and Aspen presses the button marked with our district number. As we wait for the small room to rise and take me to my room and to the impossibility of sleep. My body craves the rest but my mind whirs with questions of how I am going to get through tomorrow.

But who am I supposed to trust in a game with no rules?

**Sewn Carpets, 15, District 8**

I wake up to the sound of a harsh knocking on my door but when I look over to see who it is they have gone. Hanging on the dresser beside it though is a black bag with a hanger attached at the top. It appears almost identical to the one that held my chariot outfit the previous night.

It had been utterly horrible, a patchwork jacket with matching pants and a bright blue shirt underneath. I wore a long head shawl with more patterns and colors than my outfit and in the mirror I looked as if a clothing factory had thrown up on me. Lacey had looked none the better though and I laugh as I recall the memory of her standing beside the chariot in the long, multicolored dress and strips of fabric tied into her bun.

Finally I decide to get up and see what this bag will hold today. When I unzip the long sac I see a polyester black shirt and pants that have silver down the sides and the number eight embroidered on each shoulder. When I slip the pants on they feel incredibly tight and uncomfortable, putting on the shirt is no easy task as the collar gets stuck at my head and I have to blindly find the zipper to release myself.

I meet our escort and Lacey in the dining room and we eat breakfast in near silence, with small talk coming from Percephine, her purple lips moving but only squeaks and squeals are heard. Lacey looks thoughtful and moves her food around on her plate, she pops a few pieces of food in her mouth every once in a while. Once we have all finished Percephine brings us down to the entrance of the training centre. Before leaving she gives Lacey an encouraging pat on the shoulder but just turns to me with a putrid glare.

We are the last ones to enter the training room and all eyes are on us as we walk in through the shiny, silver door. Lacey takes a spot near the back of the room but I stand right up close beside the girl from Six.

"Now that we're all here," a strong voice echoes through the room and I turn to see a tall man with huge muscles and a flat forehead. He wears a training suit and by the looks of things he seems to be in charge. "I am Jax, the Head Trainer. I expect that you all will attempt a variety of skills over the next few days. You never know what just might save your life. You may begin."

Everyone just stands there for a moment before the Careers finally break out of the near trance and head over to where the deadliest weapons are located. Most other tributes slink away to the survival skills but I decide to take my chances with a confrontation. No one can hurt me just yet so why should I be afraid?

**Buttercup Rhodes, 17, District 9**

When everyone walks off towards a station I turn to see if Faction wants to stick with me but he has already vanished, sitting by himself at the fire building station. My shoulders deflate, we hadn't actually spoken about it but, seeing as we are district partners, I thought me and him would be allies. I walk over to the knot tying station where the District Eight girl sits alone, tying the beginnings of what looks like an incredibly complicated knot.

"Hi there," I say. This girl looks nice enough and it might be good to have a friend during the next few days.

The girl looks up and looks at me curiously, "Oh. Hi."

She then returns to her knot but her eyes glance upwards a few seconds later as if to check to see if I am still here. I grab a long piece of rope and sit on the mat across from her. She stops again and looks at me with a kind smile.

"I'm Buttercup, District Nine" I try again, this girl doesn't look like a great conversationalist but she has been the first one in this room to smile at me. "What's your name?"

"Lacey, District Eight."

Another small smile. Her fingers twirl around the rope, creating more and more twists and ties. My own fingers stumble with the unfamiliar feeling of rope and I try to copy a more simplistic design that is posted on the wall. One that would be used for holding a large load without coming undone.

"I was wondering if you would like to be allies?" I just jump right in with the question that I had wanted to ask.

"Ok," she says and her eyes lighten a bit when she smiles at me once more.

"Good, it will be nice to have a friend here," I add.

My fingers move around the rope unprofessionally and I find myself concentrating instead on the other tributes. The Career pack seems to have begun to form with the pairs from One and Four, and the girl from Two. The group goes after a few of the other tributes, jokingly pushing down the girl from Six who shoots an intense glare their way. The boy from One points towards another boy who is standing at the specialist weapons booth and they swarm towards him like bees to honey.

**Dustin Shores, 16, District 10**

A girl with sleek black hair and almond eyes comes up beside me, the pair from Eleven directly behind her. The girl pauses in front of me and looks me up and down.

"Skills?" She asks and places her hands on her hips, obviously expecting an answer.

"Um, what?" I ask, what does she mean "skills?"

"What are you good at Ten?" Her face lights up with a strange kind of smile, half comforting and half creepy beyond belief. My mouth hangs agape for a few second before I realize I still haven't answered yet.

"Well I'm pretty fast," I begin with the same speech I gave my mentor. It's not like I am trying to be modest, I just don't know what would be considered skills here. "Got decent aim too."

"We know, we saw you practicing over there at the spear throwing range. That's why we came over here, we want you in our alliance," she finishes and places a hand on my shoulder. I stare at her for a moment and she huffs a breath, realizing that I am still not understanding what she is doing here. "The Careers are making a big alliance, so to take them down we need an equally powerful group, you in?"

I nod and she introduces the group to me. The girl, who I assume is the leader of this alliance, is the female tribute from Seven, Echo Osuushi. I was right about the other two as well; both of them are from District Eleven. The girl's name is Chrysanthemum but she prefers for people to call her Chryssa, and the boy's name is Barley. Both of them seem friendly enough, as does Echo though she tends to be quite controlling. She dictates which stations would benefit us the most and sends us over to work at that station for an hour or so. Three hours later I have already honed my skills with the spears and also done some hand-to-hand combat training.

Never knew how much work this training thing would actually be.

**Chrysanthemum Dyme, 15, District 11**

I follow Echo's orders and try my hand at daggers. They are like short knives that are sharp on both ends, something that I could never imagine myself actually using on a person. I told Echo I didn't wish to learn any weaponry but she was insistent that we each learn to protect ourselves and attack when needed. That was the purpose of this alliance, to take down as many Careers as possible in the early stages of the Games. That is why Echo is trying her best to recruit the strongest tributes.

She had asked Barley to join her while we were both sitting around the fire building station trying to light a flame with just couple of twigs. He made it clear that he would not join unless I was allowed entry as well, that is the only reason I am with such a strong alliance. I will never stop owing this boy will I?

First he took the lesser mentor so that I could work with Seeder, putting himself to a huge disadvantage. Then he refused to join the Career pack when they laughed in his face about letting me join as well. And now he has kept me safe once again by getting me in with a capable group. I wish that I could find some way to show him that he was not wasting his efforts.

So I trained, for two and a half hours I slaved at the dagger station, throwing, slashing and stabbing until blisters began to form on my fingers. If I could prove that I was not entirely useless then I wouldn't be a liability any longer. I could become an asset.

Echo walks up to me and tells me that I should move on to the shelter station for the remaining half hour of training. I look at the clock and sure enough most of the day has passed. Only two more days of training left, only two more days for me to become useful.

**Kindra Crimson, 14, District 12**

A few hours after getting back up to floor twelve, I sit across from my mentor and escort and beside Channing who seems more sullen than usual. I had wanted to ask him to be allies but just couldn't find the words to do so. Instead I ended up paired with a girl my age from District Ten named Sage. She is nice enough and we get along great. She has this whimsical way of speaking that makes you instantly calm.

"How did training go today?" Ridge asks between forkfuls of brown, meaty chunks.

"Good," Channing responds without looking up from his plate.

"Okay." I whisper, nervously moving my food around my plate. Not sure why but Channing always makes me feel nervous, like I'm under evaluation or taking a test that I don't know about.

"Did you make any allies yet?" Ridge tries again and the undertones in his voice tell me that he is expecting a longer response.

"Yes," Channing replies before I can and before he continues he shoots me and accusing glare, "and she is with the girl from _Ten." _

He spits out the word "ten" as if it is pure venom on his lips. I question him with my eyes but he looks away from me as if he can no longer stand the burning in his eyes that must come from looking at me. Why would he be so mad about me making an ally? It's not as if he made it look like he wanted to join up with me. In fact I was sure that was the opposite of what he wanted to do. Then why does he stare at me with such accusation?

"Oh really? The young one?" Ridge asks and I nod, telling him that her name is Sage. "Make sure to watch her Kindra, she may look harmless but they almost never are." Channing looks over at me once more and nods, the same glare still present in his eyes.

"What about you Channing? Who have you allied with?" Our mentor presses him and he shrugs nonchalantly.

"The Career pack."

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent.**

**Song: Line and Sinker**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile. It has been updated with allies, a lot of tribute forms specified they wanted to be loners and so your tribute may have been put into an alliance. Note that these are subject to change during the Games. **

**Voting is mandatory on every chapter, otherwise you character WILL be bloodbathed.**

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**You may NOT vote for your own tribute(s).**


	5. Ladders

"_There's nothing to lose _

_When no one knows your name_

_There's nothing to gain_

_But the days don't seem to change"_

**Gem Smoke, 16, District One**

I turn and see Fin standing in the centre of the other Careers, interrupting our spear training with another snide comment. It was my idea for us all to train together at every weapon. The others thought it a great idea, we will all get to gain some experience in different weapons than the ones we specialize in.

I suggested it though to make sure that I know who can do what.

So far there is not much surprise, Zircon specializes in spear throwing, though I already knew that from what he told our mentors. He is also fairly accurate in knife throwing though not at all with archery. He does well to hide his disability but I'm sure even the most stupid of tributes could figure him out.

Athena made her strong point obvious from the beginning, she excels at knives. To be exact, on in each hand. She has a rhythm to her steps and slashes that seem almost like dance. She seems keen on each of the weapons we have yet to visit, this leads me to believe her weak points will lie in the more intellectual weapons, such as traps or poisons.

Marina is the typical knife thrower, and while her aim is deadly, she seems not to have much experience with other weapons. When we visited the knives station she showed off her lethal skills but during the rest of our tour of the weaponry stations she stuck to the back of the pack and did little training.

Fin, like Zircon, is formidable with spears. Unlike Zircon though he has profound endurance and speed. My district partner is rather lazy and hasn't actually ran the Gauntlet yet, claiming that he will never have to run through a set of tributes attacking him. That no one would dare attack him. I beg to differ with his logic.

Channing is the only one who has taken me more than a few stations to understand. He rarely speaks and his eyes seem to forever drift around the room, as if looking for someone. I know that he has competency in several of the weapons though, being from District Twelve, he is far beneath the rest of us. I can`t help but think that he is hiding something from us. We had visited every weapons station and he had not yet showed a definite strength.

My eyes drift to the specialty weapons. Is it possible that Twelve is good at something that the rest of us have not even touched? It might be arrogant to think but I have confidence in the fact that he won't be around long enough for me to find out.

**Hunter D'Agosto, 16, District Two**

I knew from the beginning that I would not be joining the Career pack. That could hurt me or help me, gaining me sponsors who think me unique and bold. Or possibly losing me sponsors for not doing as what is pretty much pre-determined for District Two tributes. Either way I know that I cannot stay with them, that would mean playing by their rules and I just don't think I could live with myself if I did that. Even if it is likely I will die, I will not play into the murderous tendencies that come with said alliance.

No, I will just have to make my own allies.

I survey the room and my gaze focuses on a little girl. Aras from District Five, age twelve. Her image and name refuses to remove itself from my thoughts. All I can think of is, why her. Why someone so young, so defenceless. So innocent? I walk over to the shelter station to see her hurriedly trying to set up a makeshift shelter out of a small tarp and some sticks. Crouching down beside her I give her a warm smile and she looks at me apprehensively.

"Hi Aras," I say quietly, almost as if I was afraid to startle the young girl who up close looks even more fragile than she did from afar. Her hair is long and thick and colored a dark brown and her brown eyes squint as she takes a look at me. After a few second she turns back to her tiny shelter without a sound.

"I was thinking maybe you would like to team up with me when we get into the Games," I coo and muster up a warm smile even though my heart is breaking inside. She is far too young to have to be subjected to this. She is training to fight for her life and I can say that the chances of her making it out alive are slim. Never in all my years of watching recaps of past Games have I seen a twelve year old Victor. "We can get a few others to join too and be a team."

"No thank you," she whispers without even turning to look at me. I am silent for a few seconds. I had thought her a definite ally, someone who would so badly want the protection of a would-be Career. Then it hits me.

She doesn't trust me.

Maybe no one does. Maybe in pulling away from the pack I had created a bubble around myself. As far as the other tributes know I will be the main target and if they ally with me that target will be transverse to them.

"Okay," I say, now even quieter than before. "The offer is always there if you change your mind."

I get up and walk aimlessly around the Training Centre. Will anyone ever trust me?

**Sparks Jadestone, 17, District Three**

I sit down at a station that is for shelter making. There is only one other tribute here at the moment, a small girl with dark hair and a number five pinned to the sleeve of her shirt. A few minutes ago there was a blonde boy was talking to the girl but he recently shuffled over to a new station.

I sit down a good three or four feet from the small girl and start to place sticks together against a makeshift tree to create a tiny shelter. I feel my shoulders relax and I sigh loudly. If I can stay calm like this than I won't have to let her takeover. I don't know what she does when she becomes me but by the scared expressions on my friend's faces after I have once again blanked out, I know that it can't be good. I wonder what this girl's name is, or if she even has a name. I wonder why she scares my friends like she seems to.

"You're doing it wrong," a voice giggles from above me and I look up to see the little girl with the number five standing over me with a mischievous grin on her face. I look up at her for a few seconds before she chuckles again and sits down beside me. She takes a stick from my unsteady structure and move it to the other side, alter replacing it with another piece of tarp and a sturdier branch. Her small hands move around the shelter expertly and I just stand there in awe of the knowledge this tiny frame possesses.

"Thank you," I whisper and the girl turns her head and looks at me with her pink lips forming a perfect circle. The branch drops from her hand and she stares at me for a moment longer before gathering up her supplies and scurrying back over to her side of the station.

What did I say?

I shuffle back over to her and hold out my hand, only now do I notice that I am shaking.

"I'm Sparks."

She looks at my hand and then back up into my eyes as if she is studying me. Trying to understand my true intentions. "Aras."

**Marina Crest, 17, District Four**

We haven't officially chosen a leader yet. Though I find it unnecessary to create these kinds of formalities, we all can tell that the obvious leader is Athena. She made it clear from the beginning that she wants to lead us and I for one am happy to have her volunteer. Puts less of a target on me at least.

Gem seems smart enough and if she were older I think she would have made herself pack leader. But she isn't, she is only sixteen and she is the youngest member of the Career alliance this year. If Hunter would have stayed they would both have been the youngest, together in their pathetic ages, but he didn't. Athena announced to the rest of us that Hunter wanted out. Fine with me, he seemed as though he would be more of a liability than an asset. Sure, he's strong enough but it is clear that he does not possess the Career instincts or state of mind. He's too nice.

I take a break between throwing knives and looks over to the survival stations to find Hunter. I see him sitting by a fire pit, trying feverishly to start the flames with the dry wood he holds tightly. His blonde hair falls into his face and he blows it away. Too bad he won't be part of our alliance actually. He could bring in sponsor gifts with just his looks.

The District six girl, whom Fin pushed over on the first day while she was scurrying about the weapons stations, sashays over to Hunter, the boys from Three and Eight in tow. They talk for a bit and I finally turn away and refocus myself on my knives. If I'm going to do this there can be no distractions. Not from this ex- Career member and not from anyone.

Beside me, Athena lets a knife soar through the air and it lands with a soft _thunk _as it hits the centre of the target. I release my own knife and it slices through the tension before landing just a half-inch from the bull's eye.

"Better luck next time Sweetie," Athena murmurs beside me and I shoot her a sarcastic smile. I don't care who this girl thinks she is because, leader or not, she is going to die sooner than later.

**Sonic Poller, 14, District Five**

I decided this the second my name was announced back at the Reaping. I am not going to have any allies.

Not that I think many people would want me as an ally, I wasn't particularly strong or smart. I couldn't do anything that special or spectacular. I was just Sonic and I don't think three days of training are going to change that. I am an inventor and I have the thought process of one, just like my father. But I am nothing exceptional.

Most of the two days I have spent training have consisted of me spending excessive amounts of time at this one station, the traps station. The instructor is incredibly enthusiastic about using traps as a weapon and proceeds to name off at least half a dozen tributes that have used them and gotten fairly far in the Games. Subconsciously I note that he does not mention one Victor.

This does not deter me however. I decide to learn every knot and trap that I can train my brain to learn and memorize every twist of the rope that will lead to the demise of any especially unlucky tributes. Maybe I won't be as deadly as the Career pack, nor do I wish to be. I just want to have a chance. A chance to win. A chance to go home to my parents and to my friends. A chance to _live. _

My only chance lies in outsmarting the others. I am not big enough or fast enough to beat them, my only hope is that I will be able to get away and survive. Make traps and stay away, that is the only part of my strategy I have decided on.

Earlier I saw Aras walking around with the girl from District Three with the bright red hair. I guess she made an ally here, that's likely best for her. She is the youngest and smallest of all the tributes this year and she looks so frail. So in need of protection that I have refused to give her.

No, I didn't actually refuse. Never did I tell her that I wouldn't ally with her, well not directly. Though I stayed well enough away from her. I had spoken to her only once on the train to the Capitol and kept my mouth shut since. I cannot get attached to her, if I do then that will be yet another weakness that I cannot afford to have.

**Chevy Axel, 13, District Six**

No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to make friends here.

Everyone just looks so much bigger, so much more intimidating than I remember them. I look around the training centre and cannot see even one friendly face. They are all contorted into ugly masks of concentration and deadly determination. Even the girl who is a year younger than me seems to emit a sense of intimidation from her tiny frame. Everyone looks so, harsh.

More times than I can count in the past few days have I attempted to talk to someone. But once I get within five feet of them I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and my throat feels dry. The feeling doesn't go away until I walk away and resume what feeble training I had been immersing myself in.

I just couldn't find a way to make friends here.

A bell rings and I jump, startled at the sudden interruption to my thoughts. The Head Trainer announces that training has concluded for the day and we are now required to return to our rooms until tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow, when we will have another few hours training and then be studied and scored based on what we know. I know that I want to impress them but Maize told me that my score is not important. I know that she just doesn't want to get my hopes up but I think I am capable of doing well. Sure I don't know very much about weaponry but I have become quite adequate with lighting fires and tying knots. Surely the Gamemakers know that survival skills are important?

I climb into an elevator with two other girls, small ones that look about my age or possibly a year or so older. The one closest to me wears the number twelve on her sleeve and the other wears a ten. They talk quietly amongst themselves and don't give so much as a glance in my direction.

I try and force words into my mouth but they just refuse to exit my lips and I stand there in silence until the elevator stops at floor six to drop me off. I exit the elevator and walk in to see that Margi is already seated at a couch across from Colm, trying once again to raise him out of his state. Not one word has passed through his teeth since we met him and he refuses to even look at Margi directly.

When I enter the room Maize looks up and gives a half hearted smile but I continue through the room and pass through the door to my room. I collapse on the bed and tears start to stream down my cheeks. I never thought a person could feel this alone.

**Echo Osuushi, 16, District Seven**

I wake up early once again. Sleep has been difficult to come by in the past few days for there is just so much to think about. Today are the Private Sessions with the Gamemakers where we will showcase our skills and earn ourselves a score that could save our lives or dig our graves. My alliance is looking to me for guidance on how to approach the sessions. Do they throw them and put on a weak front? Or do they do their best and hope to earn some sponsors?

I only have an hour or so before I will be expected to tell them what they need to do. I have no idea what I am going to tell them yet.

I move towards my closest where my training outfit hangs, washed and neatly pressed. I slide the tight shirt over my head and slip on the gripping pants, moving around in the outfit in an attempt to trick myself into believing they are my clothes, something familiar.

After washing my face and pulling my hair into a tight bun I walk into the dining room and fill my plate with fruits, breads, and pastries of all shape and flavour. My mouth waters and as I stuff a pink jelly-filled pastry into my mouth I realize exactly how hungry I must have been.

I never realized how much a person could actually eat until I was Reaped. Sure, growing up the daughter of a fairly well-off cow farmer made sure that I always had food to keep me going but I had never had food in such excess. Like it wasn't enough for these people to have enough, they had to have more than enough and then shove it down our throats, creating a better argument for their point that the Capitol can do what it likes. They can throw away food and refuse to eat leftovers while they watch district kids eat the bark off of trees.

After a while, Dusty comes in. As do Aspen, Ander and Kilianna. I continue to fill my stomach until Kilianna announces that it is time for us to head down to the training centre. Butterflies begin to occupy my gut but I push them away, now is not the time to be nervous. Now is the time to be the leader my alliance needs.

**Lacey Thim, 16, District Eight **

Today there is less meaningless chatter amongst the group. Most of us are fairly silent as it is but at least yesterday we exchanged half-hearted words of encouragement and odd banter that filled the awkward silence.

Today was different though and everyone knew it.

There were only a few more hours of training left before we would present ourselves to the Gamemakers in private. We would be examined and looked upon until they could decide on a number to properly acknowledge our skills. The tributes who scored higher were more likely to be sponsored but they also created a target so big that it would consume themselves and any allies they might have. A low score however guaranteed limited sponsors but came with the possibility of being overlooked by the more lethal tributes.

Buttercup and I each have found a weapon that we are adequate with, whereas Sparks and Aras seem not to have found one. Or else it is possible that they are hiding something. Aras seems too, lost, to be keeping secrets though something about Sparks throws me off. Her personality appears to change at the flip of a coin and even she cannot seem to keep her thoughts straight.

Is it possible that I made a mistake picking them as my allies?

I joined with Buttercup on the first day of training and we reached a sort of mutual understanding. Neither of us wanted the commitment of spoken promises but we made a silent agreement to train together. I cannot remember speaking more than five words to her and yet we seem to have a mutual understanding of our situation.

Sure it has been nice having a friend in the Training Centre but we are going into the Hunger Games. And the truth is I am not sure I could kill her if it comes to that.

**Faction Papers, 17, District Nine**

I haven't been able to concentrate on anything today. The pending Games are taking their toll on my mind and I just cannot seem to keep my thoughts straight.

I never had a perfect life, of that I am certain. But I never expected this, not by a long shot. Only once before have I ever contemplated death as a means of escape. Last year I attempted suicide but the only thing I earned was a scar across my neck from where the rope had cut into my flesh. I had come so close to dying, so close to never being able to feel the pain of my mother's fists or hear the click of her heels on the concrete floor. So close to leaving a world that seemed set on swallowing me whole.

I had grown since then though. In the moments that the noose clenched around my throat I realized that I couldn't die like that. I couldn't leave the world as my father had, possibly leaving anyone behind that might care for me. That was the reason I was still alive, in the hopes that someone, somewhere cared enough about me to cry if I died.

My gaze moves from station to station until I find who I am looking for. My district partner Buttercup, I had seen her oftentimes around District Nine. She has lots of friends and she has to be one of the most well-liked people in school. She is also beautiful, her brown hair bunching around her shoulders and bouncing in giant loops as she walked. The way her smile lit up her face while she talked to you, as if nothing made her happier than to be talking to you.

I was envious of the girl who seemed to always have everything. She was not rich in wealth, but rich in happiness, a smile ever present on her tanned face. I wished that I could have that kind of dumb joy, the kind that blinded you to everything going wrong in life. I could never be that naive but I wished more than anything that I could be.

A bell rings and all around me tributes replace the supplies they had been using and make their way towards the lunch room in near silence; the only noise coming from the idiotic chatter of the Career pack. I stand up and begin the walk to the large double doors, Buttercup walks ahead of me and a smile lights up her face when she sees me.

For the first time in seven years I feel the beginnings of a smile tug at the ends of my lips.

**Sage Rosse, 14, District Ten**

Kindra and I sit at a table close to the edge of the lunchroom, furthest away from the door. We sit in silence and I pick at the long noodles on my plate, suddenly not feeling the need for nourishment. A fork clatters as Kindra places her utensil down on the plate and puts her arms down on the table, resting her chin in her hands. She looks up at me and lets out a slow breath. I also put down my fork and lean back into my chair.

"This is it," she whispers without looking up at me. I am unsure whether or not to respond when she speaks up again. "We won't be able to talk again until the arena."

I sense my feet becoming numb and I try to shut out the coldness that now nips at the back of my neck. She's right of course, tomorrow night is the Interviews and the next morning we will be launched into the arena. We won't speak to each other again until the Games have already started. That is, if we both live through the first few minutes.

I nod slightly. "We have to decide how we are going to find each other. You know, when the Games start."

"Water," she murmurs and I almost think I've misheard her.

"Water." I echo, "Find the biggest source of water you can and we will meet there. Every night after the anthem, show up at the water source and we will find each other."

"B-but," she stutters, "what if we don't?"

"If we don't meet up after three days," I breathe, "Then one of us isn't coming or can't find it."

"I don't want to be alone Sage," she says and her eyes plead with me, "Not now and not ever."

This isn't fair, we are both the same age and yet she has unknowingly given me more responsibility than I had ever been granted. She was making me responsible for finding her. Even though we are the same age she seems much younger, her small size and fragile eyes show the mind of a young child. Unprepared and unprotected.

**Barley Haystack, 17, District Eleven**

"Here is the plan for the scores, everyone is to get the highest score possible. End of story."

Of course it is Echo who has spoken, she has become the unnamed ruler of this alliance which no one seems to mind at all. She is very good at convincing people of her opinions and by the looks of things she is used to being right.

"Wouldn't it be better to get average scores so as not to stick out?" Chrysanthemum asks this in a voice so quiet that I can barely understand her even though she is seated right next to me.

Echo lets out a slow breath as if that had been the most ridiculous question she'd ever been asked. I give a playfully annoyed look at Chryssa and she hides a smile behind her hand. Echo might be a great leader but really I concern myself more with helping Chryssa by distracting her from everything going on. She is only two years my junior but yet I think of her as a kind of baby sister to me. It's unfair that she should be allowed to experience this trauma.

"Our point is to show the Careers that winning won't be as easy as they think it will be," she speaks slowly to Chryssa as if explaining something to a young child. "And that means getting onto the same level as them."

That is a decent point, we do want to give the Careers a run for their money and we need to show them the fear that they ensue in so many others. I think it is about time that they felt the emotion of fear that they have become so unfamiliar with. However they are still humans and humans fear what they cannot overcome.

"High scores shouldn't be a problem," I cut in and Echo immediately turns her attention towards me. With everyone else she seems to brush them off right away but she acts differently towards me for some reason. She treats me with a level of respect that feels foreign to me. "Just remember what we did in training and I think we can all pull a Career score."

Nervous laughs fill the air but soon are lost again to the tense fog that surrounds every table. We all turn back to our nearly untouched meals and pick away at them until they are nothing but shredded piles on the porcelain plates.

**Channing Keynes, 18, District Twelve**

"Scores of eight or above or you're out," Athena moves her gaze to look at each of us in turn. The mood at our usually boisterous table has become somewhat sullen as we discuss the rules for the next few days. "No exceptions."

All of us nod and she rests her gaze on me for a moment longer as if to try and get some sort of read on me. If she thinks it will be that easy she is in for a surprise. I am not that simple to unravel. Athena's eyes lock on Fin, who seems almost regretful that he did not take on the leading role, daring him to object to her regulations.

Once she is satisfied that everyone has agreed to comply by this rule she continues. "Everyone is to participate in the Bloodbath, failure to do this will make you not only kicked out but also a number one target."

Her eyes flit around to me once again. She seems most concerned about me for some reason that I have not yet worked out. If she doesn't trust me than she is smart, and if she is scared of me she is brilliant. No one knows what I am capable of. Not one person here.

Even my mentor has not been trusted with my skills and strategy. I can tell he takes special affection to Kindra and the last thing I want is some brat knowing my strategy. Not that it will matter; I expect to see Kindra's face in the sky very early on. She is too frail to survive these Games, to no fault of hers of course. These Games were meant for those with superior strength or intellect, of which she has neither.

Allying herself with the pathetic excuse of a tribute from Ten just sealed the deal. Both of them will be dead by the end of day one, I will personally make sure of it.

A bell rings to signal the end of lunch and we are all brought into a small metal room in which we will await our private sessions with the Gamemakers. This is going to be a long day, that's for sure.

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent.**

**Song: Nothing to Lose**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile. Training scores, allies and deaths will be notified on here. **

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	6. Wooden Planks

_We're breaking up the city,_

_No time for wasting away,_

_So tell me why should I stay_

_A prisoner of today_

**Zircon Spinel, 18, District 1**

Soft chatter fills the brightly lit room as all of us tributes sit in wait of the coming private sessions. I sit with the rest of the Career Pack in the far right-hand corner of the room on a hard concrete bench. I move around again, trying hopelessly to make myself more comfortable without anything to separate my body from the harsh texture.

"Remember everyone," Athena reminds us all for what feels like the hundredth time today, "An eight of up or you're out."

I smirk and lean back so that only the metal wall holds me upright. An eight is the minimum, really? The little girl from Five or even the scrawny brat from Six could get an eight if they tried hard enough. I plan on getting a twelve, no less. What better way to prove that I am the natural leader of the Careers, not pretty little Athena who can do nothing but shake her perfect little head at us every time we fail to do what she could not even attempt. If we are going to succeed we need a real leader. We need me.

"What's the plan for the Bloodbath?" Gem asks in a mechanical voice. She never has seemed to be one for laughter or jokes and the only smiles I see spread across her face and undoubtedly fake. She is intriguing though, I never can seem to take my eyes off of her. Each time I catch her gaze she shoots me a twisted look before directing her gaze elsewhere. It's almost as if she doesn't find me attractive.

"Why do we need to think about that now," I smirk, "it's still two days away."

"If we don't plan now we won't plan at all," Gem resolves, "Tomorrow are the interviews and after that is the Launch. There is no other time when we will all be together to state our strategy."

"Gem's right," Athena remarks in a voice that demands automatic silence. "Two of us will be on defence; you stay by the supplies and kill anyone who gets within range. The rest of us are on offence; attack anything that moves,"

There is a sort of silence that moves amongst the group. Without any words we know who is to do what so all we need is for Athena to make it final.

"Gem, Channing," Athena says suddenly, "you're on defence. The rest of you get there as fast as you can and make this Bloodbath one to remember."

"Gem Smoke." A mechanical voice breaks the tense feeling of the room and I notice a few of the tributes jump at the sudden sound. Gem gets up and glides through the door without so much as a backwards glance. Finally it's here, the time to show them everything.

**Athena Roddrick, 17, District 2**

"Athena Roddrick."

I shake with both excitement and nerves as I stand and face my allies once more. I give what I hope is a strong nod and then make my way over to the door. Not too quick to seem stupidly eager but not to slow to seem nervous. The perfect speed. Everything I do must be perfect, the Career leader has the biggest target on their back, and one wrong move is all it takes for your bloodthirsty allies to decide that you are no longer good enough. One wrong move and I can be easily replaced.

But I won't be replaced, I am fairly certain of that. A good score will only reinforce the fact that I belong in this role. So I will get a good score. The door opens and I stride through confidently, not even flinching when the metal closes with a loud bang. The Gamemakers sit comfortably on a luxurious balcony that looks over the training room, they watch me with intent eyes but a few seem a tad bit too interested in their beverages.

The first thing I do is walk over to the station set up for knife training, the station is perfectly neat which leads me to believe that neither Gem nor Zircon is apt to using them. I don't know what Career would choose not to specialize in knives, there are so many possibilities. Short daggers, throwing knives, longer knives that resemble swords, no limitations to the power you can have with them.

I grab one, rather short, knife and slid it into my belt. I can hear the murmurs of confusion amongst the Gamemakers but I pretend not to notice their questioning glances. I pick up two long, sword-like knives and the five training dummies I requested are pushed into the middle of the room by a herd of Avoxes. I position myself behind the dummies to create a sly attack situation. Crushing the nearest dummy between my chest and arm I slice its head clean off with my first blade. The next one I take a swipe at which neatly cuts off its legs at the ankles and thrust one knife into its heart while slicing behind me at the next dummy. When finally the last dummy falls I take off running towards the opposite end of the room.

I scale the cargo net that hangs in the far right corner and hold myself up by my ankles while I throw the hidden knife towards a target 100 feet away from my upside down position. After the satisfying _clunk _sound I hang there for a few moments, breathing hard and smiling to no end.

**Bolt Fresia, 17, District 3**

The Gamemakers stare down at me with something like interest. The odd couple of them are lost in their own conversations or drinks but for the most part I have the attention I need to get a decent score. That's what we agreed on, get the highest scores possible. That's how we get sponsors and if we get sponsors we have a better chance at staying alive.

I look up at them for a moment before breaking out in a friendly grin which is met with their unwavering stares. I gulp down some saliva and proceed towards the survival stations. Already the Gamemakers look bored with my performance, I tie a variety of knots but when I see that the reaction amongst them is of minimal excitement I sigh heavily, lay down my ropes, and stride over to the blow dart station.

This peaks their interest, blow darts are hardly used in the Games but I cannot understand why. They are a long range weapon which allows you to stay far away from your prey, if they have a short range weapon than you have a greater chance of coming out victorious. They can be used by almost anyone, in a Games from when I was very young there was a shy, fourteen year old girl who created poisons that she dipped the darts in. She made it pretty far until the would-be Victor tackled her from behind and stabbed her in the back with her own poison. That was probably one of the most horrific deaths I'd seen, she screamed and cried for hours until finally a day and a half later mutations were released on her, finally allowing her to die.

I won't make that mistake though, I won't use poisons. I launch three darts at targets and they all stick in the centre. All I need to do is shoot straight.

**Fin Aquil, 18, District 4**

My name is called and I give a nod to Channing before walking through the huge doorway into the nearly empty training room. Channing and I don't seem to get along very well, clashing personalities most likely, but so long as he leaves me alone I'll do the same to him. Until it's time for the Careers to split up, then he's fair game just like the rest of them.

I stride confidently to the centre of the training room and state my name. Even at the sound of my voice I see all attention focus back on me. Maybe during Marina's session they could eat and drink their hearts out but my form demands attention. Just by entering this room I am almost guaranteed a score of eight or higher. Now all I have to do is peak their interest even higher.

I begin with heading over to the traps station and create a series of knots. I bring the rope over to the knives station and select a long, think knife from the arrangement. Now I stride slowly to the climbing station where fake trees are set to mimic the setup of the most popular arena type, a forest. I string the rope over one of the branches, hiding the ends so that they are invisible to anyone who could pass by. Carefully, I string the knife amongst the rope and with a piece of fishing wire I attach the rope to a rock on the ground.

The Gamemakers look at me with intrigue and I shoot them a coy smile and a wink. I grab a target practice dummy and shove it forward so that it rolls on its wheels. As soon as a wheel catches the rock the knife flies out of the branches and lands firmly in the head of the dummy. The room falls silent as I make my way over to the spears, my true specialty. Now it's time for the finale.

The silver spear flies out of my hand and shimmers as it slices through the air before tearing through the neck of the dummy.

I stand up straight and give an exaggerated salute before exiting the training room, a smile playing on the curls of my lips even as the doors to the elevator slide closed.

**Aras Horndon, 12, District 5**

My entire body still shakes from exertion as I walk out of the training room and away from the pungent stares of the Gamemakers. Everything had gone alright, or so I hoped, and I think that I will receive an average score like my alliance agreed on. Average is what we are going for, that way we won't be targets.

I don't exactly agree with the strategy because mediocre scores do not necessarily mean that no one will target you. Especially in the Bloodbath when everyone is just out for blood and it doesn't matter whose. Though a five or so will likely be the best I get because of my age and size. I could have amazed them to my full power but in the end I am still the youngest one in the Games.

The elevator comes down and I enter through the doors into the metal contraption. I press my finger harshly into the button labelled with my district number and wait impatiently as the doors close and I am left alone with my thoughts.

I wonder how I did. I wonder how everyone else did. What if I get a low score, will people still sponsor me? And the one question that plagues my mind more than any other, will I still be alive a week from now. When the Games are in full swing will I still be fighting or will I have already arrived home in a wooden box to be buried alongside every other District Five tribute who failed to make it back home alive? My body tenses and I feel shivers run down my spine. There is only one full day left in the Capitol, after that I will be in full view to all of Panem, fighting for my life.

The elevator drops me out on my floor and I enter into the dining room to find Avani and Verge seated at the dinner table. When I enter Avani gives me an encouraging nod and motions me over to her. She asks about how my session went and about fifteen minutes later Sonic comes in and heads directly into his room. Verge sighs and follows him, leaving Avani and I to talk strategy. For the most of the night we just sit there, dinner comes and goes and all we do is talk.

I take in all her kind words and savour them like a fine meal. Soon I will be in the somewhere with no comforting words to be spoken.

**Margi Perrin, 15, District 6**

I sit down on the couch next to Chevy and our mentors. It's been hours since I was in the training room, performing my skills for the Gamemakers to judge like a stupid puppet. If I had a choice I would never have done it, but my life is on the line. I have to do what it takes to survive, even play their sick games.

The announcer comes on and I am taken aback, by Capitol standards he is rather normal looking with what appears to be natural brown hair with only the tips dyed black. His eyes are blue but not an unnatural sort, and his face is free of makeup except his flawless complexion gives way to his use of some sort of facial powder. Maybe the interviews won't be so bad, if this is the guy who is asking the questions. He smiles warmly at the camera and begins.

"This year's tributes have been working extremely hard since their arrival in the Capitol. Just this morning they were given the chance to show off their skills during their private sessions with the Gamemakers. Each has been given a score of one to twelve with one being the lowest.

I had never in my lifetime seen a tribute score more than a ten, though I had seen a few ones and twos, mostly from the younger tributes. I would expect in that range for both Chevy and the little Five girl.

"First up, District One's Zircon Spinel with a score of eight."

That was certainly surprising, with him being a District One career I would have expected at least a nine. The careers that usually obtain the sevens and eights are the lower district joiners or the District Fours. Though I had seen him in training and it looked as if he was always focusing on his district partner more than the weapons.

Speaking of his district partner, I see her pale picture come onscreen and in harsh black writing the number nine appears. She is the youngest career and so I would have expected a score like her district partner's, this just proves that even little miss perfect is someone to look out for.

Hunter is next, one of my allies after he refused to join with the careers. However stupid that decision is I am grateful to have someone like him in my alliance. A thick black seven flashes under his name and I can't help but be surprised. Sure he had told us that he hasn't trained at all but his accuracy with many of the weapons suggested otherwise. I would have thought his score would at least match pretty boy's.

The career pack leader is next, Athena Roddrick and she earns a rather impressive score of ten. I am not taken aback by her score because I know that to be the career leader you must possess some capabilities. Her score is the best so far amongst the careers and I begin to worry, if they have a good leader this year will they be more organized than their usual, obvious `kill anything that moves` method?

Finally a break from the trained tributes, District Three usually produces slightly higher than average scores because they are lucky enough to be from one of the first few districts. They get their private sessions during the time when the Gamemakers are still pumped up from the career's time. The boy and another one of my allies, Bolt, gains a score of six and his district partner matches it. I am a tad bit surprised at the girl's score because by how Bolt described her she seemed somewhat out of it. I guess this score proves she can get her head in the Games.

**Dusty Abernathco, 14, District 7**

Echo and I sit on the edge of our seats and neither of us can seem to sit still. I have always tried to keep a calm exterior but now I am almost shaking with the nerves. I thought my session went well enough to earn me a decent score but now that I have seen even the careers obtaining lower scores I start to fear that I will be lucky to come out with an average score of five.

The rather large boy from Four's face flashes across the screen. On his face is a confident smirk and his eyes seem to cut right through me, opening me up to see what I really am. Not what I try to make myself out to be. I shiver and seconds later his score is announced, a ten to match the girl from Two's.

The boy's district partner, a somewhat normal looking girl who stares blankly at me from the screen, her brown eyes fixated on something past me, receives a score of eight. I gulp, another rather low score from the careers. Could this mean that a lower district actually has a chance to win or are the rest of us about to be screwed over with even worse scores?

The boy who is about my age from District Five scores a six and I relax slightly, if I can get a six I will be very happy with myself. A six means you are on the higher side of average, a six means no one will target you specifically. A six means that you still have a possibility to gain sponsors from the Interviews.

His district partner, the youngest tribute in this year's Games and most likely the smallest as well, receives a five. Well there is no way I could get worse than her, she showed no obvious strengths in training and what secrets could she possibly have to hide? None that's what. If I can't at least match her score than I may as well lay down and die right now.

Chevy, the thirteen year old District Six male, is featured next onscreen. His face appears passive and I search my brain for any memories of him from training but come up blank. Did he not show up or something? Surely I would have seen him once at least. He receives the lowest score thus far, a four and I conclude that it doesn`t matter where he was. He is nothing to worry about with such a low score. No one with a score under five could be hiding something.

His district partner Margi gets a fairly high score of seven. Makes sense though, I saw her in training and she looks pretty tough despite her being a girl and all.

**Sewn Carpets, 15, District 8**

The scores so far seem to be a lot lower for the careers and yet quite high for the non-careers, which could be good news for me I suppose. Really though I just want to get a decent score so that when I`m in the arena people will send me stuff. Hopefully I can get a kill or two while I`m in there and show all the Capitol idiots that they should put their money on me. I`m probably more interesting to watch than any of the careers and I am actually capable of doing some damage in the arena. Who wouldn`t want me to win? A lot of people actually.

I turn my attention back to the screen just in time to see a black number five flash under the picture of the District Seven male. An average score and it doesn't look like he will be anything to worry about. He is part of that big alliance but his district partner steals the show every time. Speaking of his district partner, her picture comes onscreen, her thin lips pressed together in what could only be a look of disapproval, and it is announced that she has received a seven. A seven for District Seven, how cute.

Finally it is District Eight's turn, it's not like I care that much about what the Gamemakers think about me. It's just that, well, I'm curious. My face fills the screen and I laugh at the humorous smile that plays on my cheeks. When I finally stop chuckling I look back to see that neither Lacey nor anyone else seems at all amused. My mentor raises a finger to their lips and motions pointedly back to the screen. I look just in time to see a black six dance below my photo. I would have expected a much higher score than the average six but at least it is the higher of the two averages.

When Lacey's photo comes up I see for the first time how scared she actually looks. I gaze behind me at the couch and see that the same beaten look is presently on her face. She looks up at me and gives a small smile but I am too confused to return it. She's older than me. Doesn't that make her more prepared? I would have thought she would be looking at me with discontent, knowing that I could beat her. Right now though she just looks sad.

Lacey earns a score only one point below me and I try to give her a congratulatory smile but my face just twists, still with confusion. I shake my head and turn back to the screen, promising myself that I will figure this out later tonight.

I am very taken aback when I see the boy from Nine's score, despite his obvious size advantage he receives the lowest score possible, a one. The picture onscreen shows vacant eyes and for the first time I notice that his eyes look almost permanently sunken, as if they had given up on their purpose of sight and now only sit there sulking. Just as I begin to examine the rest of his face his photo diminishes and is replaced with a picture of a girl with dreaming eyes and a carefree look. Buttercup Rhodes, District Nine female.

Buttercup receives an unimpressive score of five but I barely notice, all I can see are the soft creases of her eyes and the angelic facial expression that holds me. How can someone so perfect be brought here for slaughter? It just doesn't seem fair.

**Buttercup Rhodes, 17, District 9**

"A ONE!?" Quince cries and I flinch at the sudden screech. "How on Earth did you manage to get a one?!"

"I did nothing." Faction replies with his eyes focused on something near his feet. "I told them I wouldn't play their stupid games and left."

"Do you understand that you have just made my job about a billion times more difficult?!" Quince continues, now pacing the room and visibly shaking. "I wanted to keep you alive and now this! No one will sponsor you Faction, I hope you realize this when you are starving or freezing to death. There is nothing I can do now. You've screwed yourself over."

"I don't need their help," Faction murmurs, "Like I said I am not letting them own me. I'm already going to die so what's the point in jumping through hoops to make them happy?"

Quince takes a few shaky breaths and Ware moves over to place a hand on her shoulder which she immediately shrugs off. I watch her eyes begin to water and she storms out without another word to anyone or even a glance in Faction's direction.

I understand what Faction means, however stupid his actions were. Quince is right, with such a low score there won't be any money to scrape up to send him gifts. But if this is how Faction decided to go about this than that's his business, no one else's.

"Do you think I'm stupid," Faction mumbles but when I look over at him I see that he is talking to me, "I just don't want them to make me do anything that I don't feel right doing. Today in the sessions, it didn't seem right to show off to them, to perform for the people that created a game that would kill me."

I don't know what to say so I remain silent and place a comforting hand on his knee. I expect him to shrink away from my touch but instead he looks up at me for a second before burying his face in his hands. I feel bad for him, he is trying to do the right thing but he's being punished for his efforts. It would be so much easier for him to just play by their rules but he still refuses.

For the first time I truly wonder, how much do I truly know about Faction Papers?

**Dustin Shores, 16, District 10**

Wow that poor Faction guy, a one? The Gamemakers must be pretty harsh this year. But my mentor told me already that scores don't matter that much, that no one pays attention to the really low or average scores, only the high scores are important because they mean you must be half decent at something. Low scores could mean you're hiding something, I wonder what he is hiding.

I sit on the couch between my mentor Ecru and Sage, with a bowl of noodles on my lap. The food here in the Capitol is amazing and it's available at the drop of a hat which makes it even better! This noodle arrangement is one of my favourite dishes so far and as I slurp down the last few pieces I ask a nearby Avox for my fourth helping.

The scores are almost over and I can't help but feel relieved. District Ten is up next which means the tense atmosphere of this room will soon be over. I hate when everything is so serious, it makes me extremely uncomfortable. I look up from my new bowl of noodles to see a picture of myself with a thick, black six underneath. I hear a few cheers from Ecru and our escort and I can't help but smile, if they're impressed that must mean I did good.

Sage's face soon replaces mine and before long a number shows up beneath her sweet expression, the number five. Another round of cheers explodes around the room and I get up and hug Sage, she seems surprised at first but after a few seconds she hugs me back. When I release her I turn back to the screen and Ecru pulls me back down to sit on the sofa.

The smiling face of another one of my allies, Barley Haystack, takes over the screen. After a moment or so his score is announced, an impressive score of seven. The smile doesn't leave my face as I think of how happy Barley and Chryssa must be right now, their mentors especially must be proud to have this score. The double digit districts almost never get a score over six.

Chryssa's face replaces Barley's and the number four takes its place beneath the photo. The smile falters a bit from my face but when I remember what Ecru told me. No one pays attention to the low scores, maybe now everyone will think she is hiding something. That could even get her more sponsors!

**Chrysanthemum Dyme, 15, District 11**

"That's great you two!" Seeder exclaims from her place on the couch next to me. She jumps to her feet and envelopes both Barley and I in a tight hug. "District Eleven has not done as well as you Barely since Hunter was a tribute!"

I look back once more to Hunter who just stares unmoving at the screen, his eyes do not falter and if I didn't know better I would think him dead. The slow moving of his chest though shows that physically he is still alive, even though Seeder tells me that the person he used to be died long ago in the arena. She said that she too was curious about why Hunter did not respond normally so she went to the Justice Building and found the recaps of the Third Hunger Games, the one he won. She told me it was horrifying, there were burning deserts and the mutts were these spiked plants that were also the only source of water. To obtain the resource tributes would fight them off and kill them.

Seeder told me that the heat caused the tributes to see things that weren't there, Hunter must have imagined that his district partner, a sweet looking fourteen year old, was one of the deadly, water holding mutts. He sliced her open and searched her insides for the water. She said she watched him come to the realization of what he had done, just seconds before she died, cursing him and crying out that he was a monster.

I had had nightmares, envisioning myself and the other tributes in that sort of environment, each time I came close to dying. Each time they ended with Barley's crazed face leering over me, sword poised to slice me open.

I understood Hunter now more than anyone else in my district, people called him crazy, they cursed him and said he was a traitor. But none of them knew what had really happened, all they had seen was that one crazy moment. That one moment that had overtaken him and defined him for the rest of his life. I wished I could talk to him but I knew that would do him no good, he was used to the strange ways he operated, he would never be truly ready to heal.

We all sit back down on the couch to watch the rest of the scores, only District Twelve remained. The first of the two to be featured is Channing Keynes, the boy who had surprised everyone by joining up with the deadly Career alliance. He receives a score of nine and I hear Seeder gasp behind me. Not once in my life have I ever seen someone from Twelve get such a high score and I am guessing that even she has not.

Channing's picture dissipates and a wide-eyed photo of his young district partner Kindra Crimson fills the screen. She looks so much younger than her real age of fourteen and I shake my head when I think about it and realize that I cannot remember her having any allies. In fact I can't remember her speaking with anyone except the other young girl from Ten. I hope she did find someone though, she seems far too innocent to be going in alone.

Kindra receives the second lowest score of the night, a three, which flashes under her picture like a death sentence.

**Kindra Crimson, 14, District 12 **

I stare at the number for what seems like hours, a harsh black three under my picture. I swallow the tears that have begun to spring up in my eyes and turn to see Ridge attempting to congratulate Channing who simply stands up and walks into his room without a word. Our mentor then turns to me and gives an uneasy smile, starting to walk towards where I sit. Once he has almost reached me I stand up suddenly and run into my room, the automatic door shuts behind me and I flop down on my bed. The tears finally come and moisten the silky bedspread that covers the overly luxurious bed.

Why did it have to be me? It doesn't seem fair! I have never done anything to deserve this, I've never defied the Capitol, I've never done anything! I am already the second smallest tribute in the Games, next to the twelve year old from five, and now I have the second worst score. Though in the eyes of the Capitol my three is surely worse that the District Nine boy's one. His body is somewhat strong and it is very possible that he got that score on purpose; people might still sponsor him because he looks capable.

I tried my very hardest to earn a score that was at least average. Everyone knows that I couldn't be hiding anything, I am not strong, or fast, or smart. Nothing I am goes in my favour, I am kind but that will only work against me, I am small but all that will do is delay the inevitable if I choose to hide. Maybe even get attacked by mutts if what I am doing is not "entertaining" enough for the Capitol people.

There's only one day left, tomorrow are the interviews and the day where we will be primped and prepared to put on another show for the world. Let the people get to know us so that they will pretend to cry when we die. Let them have our past even though they already have our present and future. And the worst part is, nothing I do will change the one fact I have come to know about myself. In a few days I am going to die.

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent.**

**Song: Prisoners of Today**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile. Training scores, allies and deaths will be notified on here. **

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**There is only one more chapter until the Games will begin! I'm excited are you?! The updates may possibly be a bit scattered but I have been busy. I do my best though! **


	7. Ropes

_I'm insane, it's your fault, so sly_

_Your well of lies ran dry_

_And I cut the cord, free fall_

_From so high we seem so small_

**Gem Smoke, 16, District One**

"Come on Gem," Jayde persists. "If you want to make this believable than you have to at least try."

"Every District One girl does sexy. Why can't I be something different?" I cross my arms on my chest and glare up at her from where I sit on the couch. "If I'm supposed to be memorable than why are you trying to make me like every other girl?"

This has been going on for most of the hour. Jayde insists that the best direction for me to go with the interviews tonight is sexy. Every other girl I have ever seen from my district is nothing but a dim-witted blonde who can barely tie her own shoelaces let alone win the Hunger Games. We both agreed I was more than that and yet she still insists I play that ridiculous role.

"It's what everyone expects of you Gem," she sneers, folding her arms and turning to face away from me. "You can show them how memorable you are in the arena. There is such thing as being too different. Those sexy girls make it far, if you're not like them people might not think you can get that far. It's just for one night Gem, honestly."

"They'll realize I'm going to make it far by my training score."

"Every Career gets a good score, don't you realize this! Whether you earn it or not, you are the fear factor. Without you the other tributes wouldn't be as paranoid, their little show would be boring." Jayde raises her voice as she speaks. "Everyone expects you to be this girl, the least you can do is pretend!"

My breathing starts to quicken and I hold my tongue to keep from sniping back at her. If she wants me to play this part than she can have it her way, it will just mean more of a surprise for the audience later on right?

"Fine," I spit, there is no way I can let her think she won this argument. "But everyone already knows I'm different so there is no point."

"Oh Gem," her voice has lowered noticeably and she moves closer to me so that I may hear her. "No one cares if you're different. When will you realize this?"

I roll my eyes and storm out of the room to see Zircon and Evander sitting at the dining room table. When I enter both of them look immediately to me and I force myself to smile at them.

"Hey hot stuff," Zircon smirks, "how's your mentoring going? Learn anything?"

"Of course," I say coolly, "Jayde has taught me so much. I am more prepared than ever now."

Jayde walks out just in time to hear what I'd said and I can tell by her face that she cannot understand my sudden good mood. I smile brightly at her and she returns the grin but hers is undoubtedly forced.

**Hunter D'Agosto, 16, District Two**

"You look simply darling!" My stylist Mavus drawls in his Capitol accent. He brings up his lavender colored hands to shape my hair some more and then turns me around to face him, tears evident in his vibrant eyes. "Simply perfection."

I look at his face and see pure glee. He is truly happy for me, he doesn't realize what's going on but he wants to care about me, I can see it in his eyes. "Thank you."

I turn back to look in the floor length mirror, my fair hair has been gelled into a messy style that looks just neat enough to have been made this way on purpose. Though no one could tell by looking at me, my face is coated in white powder to hide any flaws and another powder was placed on top. Mavus told me that this would make my skin shimmer under the lights. I am outfitted in a pair of light, khaki colored pants and a white, button down shirt. Mavus helps me slip into a light, sky-blue jacket and once again he smiles at me. "Ready?"

I nod but I don't feel ready, this was never supposed to be me. I never wanted to be here as many of the kids in my district do. It was never the right choice for me but I am being thrust into this world full force anyway. I feel sympathetic towards the lower district kids who all feel like this, little to none of them choose to be standing here. None of them want the limelight, the fame, the fortune that goes along with the Hunger Games. All they want is to make it to their nineteenth birthday.

I had been almost certain I would make it well past Reaping age, every year save this one had had volunteers from both the male and female sections. None of the kids in District Two had any reason to feel nervous on Reaping Day because even if they were called there would always be someone eager to take their place.

I look back at Mavus and see the pride and bliss on his face. Even though he is grown man, likely more than double my age, he is naive. He might watch the Hunger Games and think he knows what they are all about but he doesn't. Even I don't and won't know until tomorrow.

District Two had given me a chance to make it out alive though, I had grown up around the tough and deadly Careers that plagued this game every year. Most of the other tributes believed they had no chance. Why should they, when no one had told them otherwise?

**Sparks Jadestone, 17, District Three**

I'm scared. All these people, the fancy clothes, the other tributes. My entire body shakes and I can do nothing to stop it. I look behind me and see Bolt smile at me. Why is he smiling at me? Doesn't he understand how bad this is, I don't want to let her in. I don't want her to take me again. The room fades and I am left in darkness.

Finally. That poor girl, this is so much more than she can handle, but I can handle this. I know I can, it's just an interview. The fun won't start until tomorrow. I just have to keep the other girl out right now, until everything's over. She's too nervous, her fear would take over her and then where would we be? Dead that's where. Dead and on our way back to District Three in a wooden box.

The boy in front of me stands with his eyes fixated on something on the ceiling. His blonde hair is spiked and he looks completely ridiculous. A Capitol woman comes out and escorts the first girl on stage. She has black hair and her dress is long and silver. The interviewer introduces her as Gem Smoke from District One.

Gem flounces onstage and smirks at the audience before sitting down in the chair beside the interviewer. He shakes her hand and she calls him Atticus, beaming at him with her eyes wide like a cornered doe. She leans forward so that the camera gets an excellent view of her plunging neckline and she answers his questions with an evasive tone, giving away just enough to keep interest but not so much that anything she says can be used against her.

When the a bell chimes to let us know that her time is up, Gem gives one last laugh, flinging her head back playfully. She gets up and Atticus kisses her hand softly before she exits the stage. Gem glides smoothly down the steps and bumps into Bolt's shoulder on her way through. She disappears through the doorway that we all came in without looking back even once.

Her district partner does nothing special. He plays up the arrogant Career angle and throws a few winks into the audience that causes women to shriek, all believing that his winks were meant for them. Zircon doesn't seem to be hiding anything, on the contrary he seems to be trying to get as much information about himself into the interview as possible. I sigh with relief when the bells finally chime, a person can only take so much arrogance.

**Marina Crest, 17, District Four**

"Marina Crest, District Four!" The Interviewer announces and the applause swells as I strut onstage in my short blue dress and shimmering silver heels. I flash the audience a ravishing smile and take my seat next to Atticus, crossing my ankles and pulling back my shoulder to give myself the best angle. Advice courtesy of my least favourite Escort.

"Doesn't she just look _ravishing? _Wouldn't you agree folks?" The crowd cheers their approval and I place my hand on my chest in faux modesty. Atticus plants a hand on my knee and my blood runs cold. He can't touch me, no one can. I swivel my legs away from him and look at him from over my shoulder instead. He seems to understand and laughs playfully at the audience to play off my obvious discomfort.

"Let's talk about that score shall we? An eight! Impressive to say the least!" He gushes and once again I place my hand on my chest as if this shallow compliment has formulated any sort of embarrassed reaction from me. In fact I was rather disappointed with this low score, the absolute minimum that was required for me to stay in the Career pack. My session had gone well I had presumed but obviously not as well as some others.

"Well just know that my performance in the arena will be far better than an eight out of twelve," I said with a wink. The crowd laughed right on cue.

"Oooh," Atticus drawled while leaning in closer to me, "Any hints of what we can expect from you?"

"I _could _tell you," I say coyly, "but then it wouldn't be much of a surprise now would it?"

"Oh c'mon," he insists, "Just a little hint?"

"Sorry Atticus, my lips are sealed," to seal the deal I zip my lips and lock them with a pretend key before throwing it into the audience. The commotion starts in the front row as the colorful people try hopelessly to catch my discarded imaginary object. I chuckle to myself and Atticus rolls his eyes dramatically.

"I guess we'll just have to wait then," he huffs playfully before returning to his previously perfect posture, arms placed comfortably on either side of the giant plush chair." How has your time in the Capitol been so far."

"Everything has gone better than could have been imagined!" I gush and nearly vomit at the pitch my voice has reached, "Training with the Careers has been extremely helpful."

The audience hushes and it takes me a moment to realize my mistake. The Careers. Sure, it is common knowledge that there is always a group of trained tributes in the Games, but it is in fact illegal to do so. My breath catches in my throat and I force an awkward giggle.

"I _told _Athena that was a ridiculous name for our alliance," I say and roll my eyes dramatically, "but of course nobody listens to me."

The crowd gets back to their cheery positions and I heave a sigh of relief as I exit the stage. Hopefully this little slip doesn't cost me the crown.

**Sonic Poller, 14, District Five**

I snicker as the District Four girl exits the stage, maybe everyone knows about the Careers' training for the Games but how stupid can she be to flaunt it in their faces? She walks past the rest of us and hurriedly exits out the door from which we came. Her district partner goes on next and just by the way he saunters onstage that he will be playing up the confident angle. It is the same scripted out interview that at least one of the Career tributes will perform per year. The interviewer will ask a question and the tribute will respond in the simplest language while giving off the maximum air of arrogance. Their simplistic answers are meant to strike fear into the lower class districts but all I feel is annoyed.

In front of me Aras shifts from one foot to the other and her head turns every so often to look at something else. It is fairly obvious that she is nervous, in fact most of the tributes around me give off the same vibe. Now that the Careers have all gone it is time for the real trials to start. They are trained on how to approach this interview since the day they could talk, whereas we all just attempt an angle and try not to choke.

The District Four boy strides off stage with the same confident smirk that always seems to occupy his face. Aras hesitates slightly before allowing the stage hand to lead her up the three steep steps to the stage. I hear her name announced and her tiny form appears on the right side of the stage.

It's as if she has undergone a complete transformation from the nervous girl that stood in front of me just seconds earlier. She prances on stage with her ruffled cream dress fluctuating around her to create even more energy around her small body. Her long hair swishes in the two curly ponytails that have been set on either side of her head and she looks like a larger version of a porcelain doll. She wears a placid smile and her cheeks are flushed with pink.

She sits down next to Atticus and the crowd lets out a synced sigh, she hasn't even said a word and already they are under her spell.

"Hello Aras," Atticus coos and gives an entranced look to the audience who are now nearly silent.

"Hello," she replies with a cheeky grin and she looks up to Atticus, making her eyes wide and doe-like.

The rest of the interview follows this format, receiving sighs and squeals from the audience at every word that comes out of her mouth. She doesn't reveal much but surprisingly, unlike most tributes her age, she does not play up the pity angle. In fact by the look of things she seems to be the epitome of happiness. I don't know what's more frightening, the fact that she could possibly be this happy about going in or the fact that she must be one of the best actresses in all of Panem.

**Chevy Axel, 13, District Six**

The District Five boy enters the stage after his tiny district partner. He doesn't seem as hostile as the older kids before him, or as happy as the little girl from his district. For the first time I see someone who is actually, normal. He gives a warm smile and talks in a hushed tone, his voice quivering slightly from nerves. I feel closer to this boy in the few minutes I watch him onstage, I believe that if we were anywhere else we might have been friends.

But we aren't somewhere else, we are in the Capitol, preparing to be tributes in the 38th Hunger Games. Tomorrow is the Launch where we will be sent into the arena for the first time. I am going in alone. I found no one that I could approach to talk to, everyone seemed so intensely determined. I just expected there to be at least one person who I could count on to be my friend.

As the boy exits the stage and walks past me I urge myself to say something. Maybe just one or two words to show him that I can be trusted. I hadn't seen the boy hanging around with anyone during training, maybe he's just like me. Waiting for a friend that is unlikely to come. What if it's up to me to get his attention?

He passes by me and I say nothing. What if he doesn't want any allies, what if he doesn't want to be friends with me? Questions float around in my mind as I watch Margi on the large screen above the doorway. She wears a short blue dress that is ruffled at the bottom and her hair is coiled around the back of her head. She looks pretty and kind with her face all made up, the red powder on her cheeks made to look like a blush and her face formed into a genuine smile.

I almost wish that I could have been in an alliance with her.

Then I remember the way she fought with her bare hands during training and how she held a knife as if it fit perfectly in her hand. A sick feeling settles in my stomach and I close my eyes and take a few long, deep breaths. I open my eyes as a cold hand grips my wrist and pulls me forward. My eyes widen and I look directly into the blue hair of the back of the stage person's head as she pulls me harder. My feet find their way up to the stage and I stumble out into the lights just as my name is echoed through the cavernous room.

**Echo Osuushi, 16, District Seven**

I press my palm to the number seven on the elevator and sigh loudly, relieved to finally be alone to think. My fingers come up to massage my temples in a desperate attempt to turn away the already formed headache. So much has happened and so fast. Already it is the final night, tomorrow being the day we will be launched into the arena. My thoughts run off on a train of ideas and horrors as I envision myself in every arena I can remember and a few that only exist in my mind. My body starts to tremble and I feel faint. Tomorrow I will become responsible not just for my own life but for my allies' as well. Dusty, Dustin, Barley and Chryssa will all be counting on me to know what to do and where to go.

I wanted to be the leader but I'm starting to think it was a huge mistake. I don't know how I am supposed to lead a group of kids who I know have to die for me to live. I don't know how I am supposed to act, what I'm supposed to do if one of them die. How am I supposed to stay strong and lead them?

I arrive at floor seven and look down to see that I have begun biting my nails, a nervous habit from my childhood that seems to have reared up once again. I pull my hand away from my mouth and scold myself silently, if I am going to be a leader I have to act like one. No matter how hard it will be. I put myself into this situation and now I am going to see it through to the end. That is what I always do and what my father distilled in my mind as a child.

I just never imagined the end would probably be my death.

I open the door to our suite and notice that neither of our mentors are sitting at the table waiting as usual. I walk carefully towards my bedroom and open the door, without warning the lights automatically turn on and I have to blink away spots before I notice Ander sitting on the edge of my bed. He stares at me with glazed eyes and a broken frown. I look back at him and something inside me breaks. He motions me over and I bury my eyes in his shirt. Unlike what I had expected he doesn't push me away, he hugs me and pats my back but says nothing.

I stay buried in his shirt until I finally drift into a dreamless sleep hours later.

**Lacey Thim, 16, District Eight**

Finally a knock on the door rouses me from my thoughts. Little sleep had come during the night, only thoughts and horrible, terrible visions. I spent countless hours imagining every horror that might be unleashed on me in just a few hours. A permanent knot had formed in the pit of my stomach. The few minutes of sleep I drifted in and out of were no sweet relief, I saw myself being hunted and nearly killed by everything, both human and inhuman.

Woof walks in and stands beside my bed. He looks at me and murmurs something inaudible before clearing his throat and telling me in a clearer voice that I needed to get up and not to worry about dressing or fixing myself. That would be the stylist's job later on.

I nod and find my way to my feet, my entire body shaking though Woof pretends not to notice and leaves me. I go into the bathroom and wipe the sleep from my eyes and place my hair in a low ponytail, despite what Wood instructed I dress in a plain white sweatshirt and blue pants. It makes me feel better to look put together even when it is obvious I am falling apart.

Woof is standing outside my door when I open it and he begins stumbling down the hallway. When I ask where Sewn is I receive a roundabout answer that tells me I am not supposed to know. We take the elevator down to and arrive on some sort of landing platform for hovercrafts. My body tenses and I can't force my feet forward. Woof sighs and grabs my shoulder with a harsh hand, ushering me forward towards one of the two waiting crafts.

I watch as the figure of the District Seven male disappears into the hovercraft and then I am summoned forwards by the wave of a hand. I stumble towards the steps and take one last look behind me to see Woof has already begun the walk back into the Training Centre.

A hand leads me to a chair beside the District Six girl and my shoulders are pressed down, forcing me to sit in the cold metal chair. Metal pieces come out of the chair and attach my feet, arms, and stomach to the stiff structure, leaving me unable to move. A woman comes by with a long needle-like tube and injects something into my right arm and leaving behind a pungent stinging sensation.

I wait for what feels like hours until the last tribute walks up the steps to enter the hovercraft, the small girl from Twelve who is shaking like a leaf and has tears streaming her face. Suddenly the lights dim and my stomach does a flip. We are flying.

**Faction Papers, 17, District Nine**

The lights have dimmed and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach alerts me to the fact that we are in the air. I don't tremble and shake like the little Twelve girl, or stare blankly at something above our heads like the boy from Five. No, I don't do any of these obvious things. No one can see how scared I am right now.

I didn't think I wanted to win when I was first Reaped, I thought it would be easier to just jump off my plate before the countdown even starts, you know, end it early. I had no desire to be in that deranged arena for more than a few seconds.

Part of me has changed. It's still true that I don't want to win but now I want to last. I was never going to win but now I have something to gain in the arena, Buttercup's life. She is so pure and so innocent, but she has what it takes to win and I believe she can. If there's one thing I can do before I die it will be to protect this girl. It may sound stupid but, even without speaking more than a few words to her, I have grown close to Buttercup. I can't ignore the fact that she made me feel like I was important, that I might mean something to someone, somewhere.

The hovercraft is completely silent except the miniscule sounds from the engine. Everyone sits stiffly with their limbs and middle attached awkwardly to the chair and preventing any movement. I guess they don't want any premature fighting.

Beside me I hear a small sniffle that echoes through the craft like a thunder clap, the girl from Ten has her eyes closed and water is coating her cheeks. I see her mouthing something to herself but no words come out. The Careers who happen to be on this hovercraft with us look at her with a glint in their eyes as if thinking to themselves "easy kill."

The ride feels like it lasts only a few minutes when I feel my stomach drop and the lights return to normal. One by one the tributes are taken off the hovercraft and I am the eighth to leave, right after the redheaded boy from Three. I am escorted by a small army of Peacekeepers down a series of hallways and finally pushed through a heavy metal door.

**Sage Rosse, 14, District Ten**

I stumble blindly through the door, my eyes still closed from the hovercraft ride. So long as I can keep my eyes shut this will not be real, I won't let this be my reality. A warm hand takes hold of my shoulder and my eyes fly open, not expecting anyone to have accompanied me.

My stylist Lielia looks down at me from her extreme height with a regretful smile, her eyes warm and comforting. She leads me to a table where a metallic box sits, without a word. Carefully she uses a silver key to unlock the box and the lid opens slowly. Lielia pulls out a black tank top and a pair of dark grey capri pants.

Once I am dressed I begin to shiver, this outfit provides little warmth and I can't help but dread the arena. Maybe this year they decided to torture us, maybe it will be a frozen wasteland again but this time there will be no parkas to shield us from the cold winds. Lielia takes a thin, lighter grey sweater from the box and I feel a rush of relief. Maybe it's not much but at least I have something to keep the chill away.

"It's not very thick," Lielia murmurs, "I wouldn't expect it to be that cold."

Finally a pair of small, black shoes are removed from the metal box and Lielia helps me get them on and tie the thin strings that make the shoes fit me. Her fingers run against the fabric of the shoes as if she is analyzing something. She tells me that these shoes are made for climbing, they are lightweight and the bottoms have grips on them. I nod to her but still I cannot find any words to speak.

The last thing that is taken out of the box is a large necklace with an enormous red crystal in the centre that is nearly the size of my fist. Despite what I would have thought, the necklace was not heavy around my neck, though it did provide a nuisance of sorts.

Lielia closes the box firmly and she motions me over to a couch to wait for the countdown.

**Barley Haystack, 17, District Eleven**

"What's it for?" I ask again, pointing at the necklace that Favia holds close to my head.

"I don't know hun," she sighs and forces the chain around my neck, "I was just told to give it to you and tell you never to take it off."

"What happens if I do?" I ask, though not quite sure if I actually want to know the answer.

"Again, I don't know," she looks at me with annoyance, obviously not enjoying the game of questions I seem to be playing with her. It doesn't matter what she thinks, right now I need answers. My life is on the line. "But I would advise you not to test it kid. The Gamemakers will make your life hell for it."

I'm not scared of the Gamemakers anymore. I used to be because they could control the arena and most things within it. But that doesn't matter to me anymore, nothing that they can throw at me can be worse than dying in itself. I have decided to keep a knife handy just in case muttations decided to try and rip me apart. If I pretend that I can control whether I live or die than I can't be scared of anyone else. They don't have as much control over me as they'd like to think.

My hands play unconsciously with the green gem of my necklace, the size of a smaller child's entire fist. My first thought is that it is a tracker but that would not make sense. Trackers were already injected into our forearms while we were on the hovercraft. This must be something else.

I think back to what Echo told us about our plan for the Bloodbath. Everyone who is capable of doing so is going in, meaning that Chryssa will run and find a hiding place near the Cornucopia where we will find her later. Dusty was also allowed to run as well but he told Echo straight away that he was staying to fight. She had sighed but relented, allowing the boy to join us despite her better judgement. No one was supposed to actually kill someone unless they had a fair chance at one of the Careers, supplies were the main focus of today.

"30 seconds," a mechanical voice echoes through the metal room, startling me from my thoughts.

**Channing Keynes, 18, District Twelve **

I rise at the call and begin walking towards the plastic tube that rests in the corner of the room. I'd eaten a bit of soup, knowing that I would need it in the first few hours of the Games, but I just didn't feel all that hungry. My stylist made petty talk with himself about the excitement of the commencement of the Games while I sat and thought my way through my strategy. It would work, I know it would work.

"20 seconds," the monotonous voice returns and my stylist gives me a nudge to keep me moving towards the tube. I grunt but comply, not seeing the point of getting in a stupid fight just seconds before the real fight would begin. I am going to have enough to deal with without getting myself worked up over some Capitol idiot.

I scale the two steps that lead up to the tube and hesitate unnoticeably before stepping inside. Just milliseconds after my second foot has entered the tube, the clear plastic door closes around me and everything is silent. My breathing is not even audible and my ears seem to ring from the lack of sound. I turn back to look at my stylist who gives me a creepy smile and an enthusiastic wave. My eyes narrow at him and the grin is wiped cleanly off his face leaving behind a confused expression.

I finger the large orange crystal that hangs around my neck, already annoyed with the steady pounding it causes against my chest. My hands drop from the chain and go back down to my sides, palms closed tightly in fists. My feet move slightly apart as if already taking a running position though I know I have at least another sixty seconds to wait for the gong.

The silver platform beneath my feet begins to rise, pushing me up through the ceiling. I take a steady breath and morph my face into an impenetrable mask, my poker face that cannot be broken. The dimness turns suddenly to light and I am temporarily blinded. Once I have blinked away the white spots from my vision I see it, my first look at the Gamemakers' newest paradise.

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent.**

**Song: Try Honesty**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile. Training scores, allies and deaths will be notified on here. **

**Voting is mandatory on every chapter, otherwise you character WILL be bloodbathed. This will be the last chapter for voting because I will have gathered all necessary points after this chapter. Thanks to everyone who voted.**

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**I am terribly sorry that this chapter took so long but I struggle with writing interviews and I am also very busy as of the present. Expect scattered updates! **


	8. Kills the Pain

_Cast off the crutch that kills the pain,_

_The red flag warning never meant the same,_

_The kids of tomorrow don't need today,_

_When they live in the sins of yesterday._

* * *

**Margi Perrin, 15, District Six**

The first thing that stands out is the scent, a pungent odour that overwhelms me and makes the forest atmosphere clear. The next thing that comes are the sounds; birds chirping, the wind rustling through the leaves, and the mechanical ticking of the clock that was counting down to zero.

I stand alone on a silver plate that is slightly raised off the wooden planks that make up the floor. The octagonal room is enclosed by rough wooden walls, with tree trunks protruding through the corners. The sky was partially visible, a light blue with fluffy clouds dancing in the air that made you believe you could be anywhere but here. The space is incredibly large and the nearest tributes to me, Sewn and the District One girl, are each at least eight feet away. Everyone within the room is completely within my view and it takes me a while to place the Cornucopia.

It's above us.

A twine net spreads at least fifteen feet above our heads and I can see the dip in the circle of wood that must be filled with the supplies we are required to fight for. Streaked across the room are several ways by which we may get to the platform above us. Ladders, climbing indents, and singular ropes stretch all over the room. Directly behind me is a thick tree trunk that is covered in netting, obviously meant as a means of climbing for anyone strong enough to scale it. I look back at the digital numbers that change every second, half of our time is already up.

I scan the room full of identically dressed tributes for my allies. The only difference I can note is that we each seem to be wearing a different color of necklace. I look down to my own silver gem that hangs on a chain around my neck. It is in no way comfortable but it appears to be a lot heavier than it really is. The only real nuisance that it provides is that it tends to shake and move as you walk, likely earning you a bruise or two in the process.

Bolt is easy to pick out with his bright red fringe against the dull colors of the brown room. He stands on a plate directly across from me between the girls from Two and Nine. A lump forms in my throat, his placement next to the Career pack leader is a major disadvantage to him. At least there are no weapons in her immediate area. He can only hope that she will not target him before she heads up to the next level, I know for a fact that the Career has the strength to kill him with her bare hands. Bolt just needs a few seconds to get out of her range and to hope she doesn't decide to pursue him.

Sewn I already know is beside me, I can see his wild eyes flitting to the platform and I give him a warning look to communicate my thoughts silently to him. Don't do anything stupid. He just rolls his eyes at me and looks away before I can do anything more to convince him. He still doesn't understand how real this is. People are going to die, right here and in just a few seconds. Even when training with real-life weapons that he will be expected to be able to put to use, Sewn still acted like all of this was some big joke.

It takes a couple seconds to place Hunter who is standing across the room from me. Next to him is the little one from Five and the older boy with messy, brown hair from Ten. I watch as he stares at the small girl with something of sympathy. Who could have guessed that this would-be Career felt compassion? Anyone who had not talked to him would class him as a threat but I have come to realize this is not the case. Hunter could hurt no one, especially not anyone younger than him. This meant I was as safe as I could be with regards to his loyalty.

Beside me, I see the District One girl position herself to face the wall behind us, her beady eyes set on the net that I had planned to use as an escape. I readjust my position so that I am now headed towards a lengthy rope ladder that is positioned behind the little District Five boy.

The last few beats of the mechanical clock send chills down my spine as I watch the single remaining number morph into a zero.

**Fin Aquil, 18, District Four**

An echoing chiming rings through the large, wooden room and everything seems to be a move of adrenaline. I push the red haired girl from Three as she tries to run in front of me and grab another girl, I think the one from Seven by the hair and throw her away like a ragdoll. My head whips around and I look for the closest thing that will help me get up to the platform above our heads. That must be where everything is. The eyes of the other tributes tell me that it must be.

The closest thing to me is a single piece of rope that dangles from a branch that I cannot see. I don't bother with trying to climb that because it would exhaust me and I need to be at my most energized for this, my first chance to show these Capitol idiots that I am worth everything. That I _deserve _to be here.

I choose the closest ladder to me, scaling up the short steps behind a brown haired girl that somehow got up before I did. I increase my speed until I almost catch up to her, my head just a couple feet below her ankles.

I hear a sharp breath come from above me and I glance upwards to see Athena looking down on the girl who is frozen in place on the ladder. Athena picks the girl up by her neck as if she weighed no more than a feather and threw her down to the ground. The girl whirs past me on her way to the solid ground and I have to press my body further into the rope to keep from being dragged down with her. She hits the ground with a chilling thud and when I look down I see her eyes staring to the left side of the room vacantly, her neck twisted at an impossible angle and the rest of her body piled in a twisted heap.

Margi, that was her name I think. District Six. She was one of the tributes who allied up with Hunter after he pulled himself out of the Career pack. She seemed like one of the ones who had the possibility of making it further than she did.

It's a good thing she's out now then. It's a very good thing, for me at least.

I clamber up the rest of the rope ladder and what I see is chaos. Pure, beautiful, unorganized chaos. The tributes that have gotten up the rope are scrambling for weapons, others are just reaching the side of the platform and still others are attempting swift getaways via the large branches that stretch into nearby trees. I rush over and grab a weapon, a brand new, shimmering, silver spear that seems to mold in my hands to the perfect weapon. I turn to face the masses and the first thing that stands out is a flash of red hair as the District Eight male tribute ducks into the crevice that makes up the Cornucopia.

I run up behind him and catch him just as he starts laughing, not a happy, joyous laugh, but the laugh of someone cynical. It stirs something within me and I have the overwhelming urge to destroy it, this laughter that stands for something evil and maniacal. Something that is hidden deep within someone but will show itself in due time. I shove the spear through the opening that is his mouth, pinning him to the side of the Cornucopia hole with my weapon. His laughing stops immediately and my body can once again relax, an evil I cannot see is an evil that should be feared.

I turn and face the rest of the raging battles that have broken up amongst the other tributes. These are the evils that I can more easily destroy.

**Zircon Spinel, 18, District One**

This is all perfect. Nothing can ruin these moments, the moments I will be remembered for after I win the Hunger Games.

I stand with my weapon raised, the District Six boy runs by me with a backpack clutched in his small hands. I watch as he begins to unstably walk up one of the low branches that stretch onto the platform which we stand on. A boy rushes into him and tackles him to the ground, the two boys fight for a moment and then they stop twisting and turning on the ground. The other boy, the one from Seven, stands up with a small smile present on his face. I see now the blood running out of the gaping hole that has appeared in the Six boy's neck, his lifeless eyes half closed and hands still clutching the little grey backpack.

Seven wipes the small hunting knife off on the side of his pants and doesn't even see me as I run towards him, my spear raised and in the perfect position to throw. By the time he looks up the silver blade has already disappeared into the middle of his forehead and his eyes remain permanently cross eyed as they stare lifelessly at the silver cylinder protruding from his skull. I pull the weapon from the boy's head and he falls forward with a muffled thud, blood already beginning to pool around the place where his face stares down at the wooden planks.

I hear a short scream and when I look over I see Gem holding the little District Five girl up by her brown hair. Her legs are kicking at Gem's but she appears to take little notice, if any at all. Gem shoves a knife into the girl's gut and drops her like a bag of trash to the ground. The girl's body curls in around her wound and she cries freely, her choked sobs ringing in my ears. Without so much as an expression crossing her face, Gem reaches down and drives the same, bloodied knife into the side of the small girls' head. Almost immediately the tears cease and I am taken back into the madness that has only just began.

**Marina Crest, 17, District Four**

Already, bloodied bodies litter the wooden platform that contains the Cornucopia. The fighting has slowed down by far but still a few of the Careers have their hands full with some of the other tributes. I stand guard at the hole that contains most of our supplies, though there doesn't seem to be much there. Likely enough to fill a backpack or two for each of the Careers, this could be a good thing. It means we are not confined to the Cornucopia as Careers so often are, we can roam without having to worry about our food stock being broken into. No one will be safe, there is nowhere for them to hide when we are everywhere. This year will be the best year in a long while, I can just feel it.

Fin stands over a slim girl with long brown hair and huge eyes, her chest rises and falls quickly and her sobs are evident. I can almost imagine the smirk that must be present on Fin's face as he stands over this helpless girl, a sure kill.

Suddenly a girl with long, frizzy red hair comes from the side and punches him on the side of his head. Fin is taken by surprise and that is enough for the redhead to pull the brunette after her as they take off running, meeting up with another girl who wears her dark hair in a messy bun. Without stopping, they scale branch after branch, slowly disappearing from my view. I see Fin stand up and give his head a shake before he finally realizes what happened. He looks at me with a scowl on his face and throws a long knife that finds a home in the thick trunk of a tree. His face shows his frustration and he kicks at the ground with a heavy foot before returning to the Cornucopia.

"Athena," I say and get closer to her so that she may hear me more clearly, "they're all running, they're all getting away."

Athena turns her head just in time to see the girl from Seven teetering onto a shaky, wooden bridge. Her alliance, or what's left of it, trailing after her cautiously. They are all too far away from us for us to reach them, even Fin or Zircon with their spears could not shoot them from this distance with accuracy.

Athena scoffs and looks around before noticing someone or something lurking in the shadows. I squint my eyes and within a few seconds I pick out the mildly pale skin of the boy from District Five, his eyes unaware of the two tributes watching him from such a close distance. Just as the boy turns his back to sink deeper into the foliage, a knife cuts through the air towards the small boy. His body tenses and he falls with barely a sound, the knife buried up to the hilt in the top of his back.

"They're not all so lucky Marina," she says with a serious expression. I cannot tell if she had been speaking to me or if something else had moved her to speak the words. Either way I had no response to the words. It was true though, a few lucky ones survived. Though not for long I might add.

**Chrysanthemum Dyme, 15, District Eleven**

From my spot within the branches that cover the left side of the Cornucopia I try desperately to catch a glimpse of my allies. I really wish I hadn't looked.

Death is everywhere. I count at least five bodies that lie lifeless on the ground just a few yards away. Mere seconds ago those were living, breathing beings that had a chance at life. Now that chance is over, over forever. None of them are ever coming back.

I had to stand here and watch as one of my allies killed another tribute, killed them out of cold blood, before he was killed by a large Career boy. The look on his ghostly face would almost be comical if I hadn't been so scared right now. Before falling to the ground in a heap, his eyes had both been focused on the weapon that protruded from his forehead, resulting in a cross eyed sort of appearance. The face would have maybe even made me laugh a few days ago, but not now. Now it haunts me when I envision the blood seeping out of his gaping would and the puddle of crimson that formed beneath his dead body. That was it, one of the people I had spoken to just days ago was gone, lost, and dead.

I stare down at the wooden planks beneath my feet before movement catches my eye and forces my gaze upwards. My eyes look up just in time to see the District Twelve boy who joined the Career pack, holding the bright-eyed girl from Ten by her throat. Her face turns an unnatural shade of blue and I watch her kick and claw at the boy before her entire body goes limp. He throws her to the ground with a satisfied smirk and she lands off to the side of the Cornucopia amidst the other fresh corpses.

"Chryssa!" I hear a voice behind me and I flinch but do not move from my hiding place. A few feet away I make out Barley hiding in the foliage with me, he motions me over and I rush over to him as fast as I can with the branches cutting me off at every step. As soon as I reach him he wraps me in a tight hug and then we head over to a wooden bridge that sways in the light wind.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I whisper.

"The rest of us crossed this a few minutes ago before I decided to go back and find you," he reassured me, "it's perfectly safe I promise."

We cross the bridge carefully, me walking slightly ahead of Barley but making slow progress. I can feel the tension in Barley's body that tells me how uncomfortable it makes him to be so out in the open. But I cannot will myself to move any faster so I keep pace. It takes only a few minutes to cross the bridge and when we make it onto the wooden platform that connects with it I am frozen into immobility.

The boy from Two, the one who refused to join with the Careers, is hanging by his fingertips off the platform that I stand on. Above him, Echo stands with a long, thin knife that is poised towards the boy. He pleads with her but my mind cannot process the words he is using, everything seems to be moving slowly.

Echo says something and then stomps on the boy's hand with the heel of her shoe. I hear a _crunch _that makes me shiver and I watch the boy fall from his feeble grip. There is a low yell but it fades quickly, when I dare to look over the edge, I can't even place him. Below the entire arena is a pool of deep red liquid that looks chillingly like human blood. I cannot tell from here how thick the pool is but since I cannot see the fallen boy any longer I assume it is rather deep. I listen for a cannon but hear none. I am baffled for a few moments before Barley whispers to me that the Bloodbath isn't over, there would be no cannons until the fighting has momentarily ceased.

**Athena Roddrick, 17, District Two **

"It's over guys," I yell to the rest of the pack that is still spread out around the hole that makes up the Cornucopia. Marina and Channing are the first to migrate towards me while the rest, Fin, Zircon, and Gem, are slower to make action of my unstated command. "First things first. Gather the supplies, we're going hunting."

"So soon?" Marina asks and her eyes grow wide as if I had just told her that we were going to go jump off the nearest platform. "Didn't the cameras get enough for today?"

"We need to get as many kills as quickly as possible," I say in the very calmest manner I can muster, "The cameras are just here to watch."

The rest of the group nods and Marina slinks to the back, defeated by my calm manner. I begin filling one of the large backpacks with as much supplies as will fit. The rest follow my example and by the time we have each stuffed a bag full there are no more things to be packed.

"Shouldn't there be, like, more?" Fin ponders and stares at the invisible abundance of supplies that still sits in the Cornucopia, "most years they have a lot more than this for us."

"That just means less to carry," I say shortly and no one speaks for a while afterwards. We all shift the weight around so that our backpacks sit comfortably on our shoulders and then we start to investigate the thick tangles of branches and leaves that cover the sides of the platform.

Within a few minutes Gem calls everyone over and looks at me smugly. She says not a word but begins to detach her belt from around her tiny waist, her hands move apart the thick foliage to reveal a piece of rope that seems to stretch for a long while. All of us look hard at the rope as if by staring at it more intently we might understand to where it leads.

Gem clasps her belt around the thick brown rope and pulls down hard on it as if to test its strength. When she seems satisfied she looks back at us with a sickly sweet smile and pushes off with her legs, disappearing along the string.

For about a minute or so we all just stare at where she had just been. I am the first to move. I grumble something under my breath and remind myself to make a point of reprimanding her later for making a decision without our decided leader. Until then what else could I do but hook my belt up and fly through the wind, hoping with everything I have that this thing led somewhere safe.

I land with a soft thud on another, much smaller platform, Gem facing me with that same smug smile on her pretty little face.

"Have a nice ride?" she asks, her eyes turning poisonous and the sweet smile slowly vanquishing from her pale face.

"Of course," I reply coolly and then I face her with all sweetness disappearing from my expression as well. "Next time you decide to make a decision without me, don't."

Gem doesn't look at all fazed by this and as Fin comes riding in on his belt her calm expression returns. Once finally everyone has arrived on the tiny platform I begin to gather everyone to tell them the plan for the coming night, but we are interrupted by the pounding sound of cannon fire in the distance.

Everyone stops and turns their faces upward to look at the impossibly blue sky and I count silently in my head. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, _the cannons stop for a short pause before the final cannon booms, _eight. _I turn to the rest of my pack who all seem rather proud of the about average sized Bloodbath. I know that two of those cannons were for the girl from Six and the boy from Five, both my kills. I almost allow myself to ask the rest of the pack how many of those kills were there's before I remember what my mentor told me.

Keep them feeling weak, a boost in your follower's confidence is all it takes to bring onto you destruction.

Weak, all of them. I have to believe it and I have to make them believe it, the only one that can be strong is me and me alone.

* * *

_**Hunter D'Agosto, District Two**_

_**Aras Horndon, District Five**_

_**Sonic Poller, District Five**_

_**Margi Perrin, District Six**_

_**Chevy Axel, District Six**_

_**Dusty Abernathco, District Seven**_

_**Sewn Carpets, District Eight**_

_**Sage Rosse, District Ten  
**_

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Red Flag  
**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile. Deaths will be notified here.  
**

**Voting is now over but I would still like to hear your thoughts on each chapter! It may help your tribute live a bit longer if I know someone is reading them.**

**I am terribly sorry to the creators that have lost their tributes, I do hope that you will stick around to see the progression of the story. If not then that is okay too and I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Characters were killed based on points, personality, and of course whether or not the creator reviewed. Sorry again. **

**There was a problem for this story with recycled tributes, as the authors know now I do not tolerate resubmits. If I am taking the time to write your tribute than please at least take the time to create an original character. I will not hold it against the authors and if you have another character in this story or any others then do not worry. I take out this frustration only on the tributes that are recycled. Those tributes already had a shot in another story and they will not get another. **

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**A new SYOT has begun! Applications are open for **_**Painted Crimson **_**and there are still plenty of spaces available! Jump over to my profile and check it out!**


	9. Bloodstains on the Ground

_Don't wait for, a knight in shining armor_

_Your savior's, reflected in the mirror_

_These flowers, have grown from bloodstains on the ground_

_Go rake them, leaves of your grass and my grave_

_The fact is, everyone bleeds when they shave_

_There's no use, so don't deny we're just the same_

* * *

**Bolt Fresia, 17, District Three**

Just like that.

Just like that, Margi, Hunter, and Sewn were all dead. Just like that I was left alone. Alone in the Hunger Games where everyone is out to kill you, without anyone to watch my back whatsoever.

_Maybe it's better this way, _I think to myself, _how could I really have trusted them in here?_

I shake my head to try to get the thoughts out. None of them would have killed me. They couldn't have, could they?

_Anyone could kill me, anyone could do it and everything would be over for me._

Once again I look around me and listen closely for any signs of sound that could alert me to movement. The only audible noise is the rustling of leaves through the countless trees that surround me. Already it is dark and I am unable to see very far in front of me. I have no idea how long it has been since I first left the Cornucopia but it doesn't feel like it should be night just yet.

I reach the edge of my wooden platform and I stop. This cannot be the end of this arena, it would be far too small, no, there must be something more that I am just missing. I crouch down to sit on my heels and squint so I can see the edge of my platform. For a few seconds I see nothing but the darkness below it, but then something sticks out. A rope. A long piece of brown rope that stretches away from the platform as far as I can see.

I stand up quickly and look up to see if there is anything above me to hold onto. I am pleased when I see another thick piece of rope just a couple inches above my face. Gripping my hands tightly around the piece above me I position my feet so I am standing one in front of the other. I take a tentative step forward and then another. For a long time I do this, not knowing how far I have actually gotten or how far I truly have left to go. The wind sways both the ropes above and below me and many times do I stumble and have to pull myself back up by the higher rope. Suddenly I am glad that it is so dark, at least I can't tell how far up I am. I have never truly been one for heights.

I shuffle my black shoes along the rope that feels incredibly thin beneath me and I can't help but think about how easy it would be for me to die right now. The Gamemakers surely have complete control over this place, if they wanted me dead I would be dead. It's that simple.

If I am still alive by the time this rope ends then that must mean they don't want me dead. Not yet at least.

My whole body convulses and I feel a sharp pain in my forehead, almost like something has bitten me. I have myself convinced that I had imagined it until I feel another stabbing pain in my neck. I release one hand from the top rope and bring it down to my neck, when another pain becomes centered around my ear and another on my shoulder, I begin swatting at the air madly. Bugs, some sort of bug. Nothing else could get me when I am this far off the ground, it has to be something small. Something that can fly.

I force myself to hurry forward and more stabbing sensations continue to appear on the surface of my skin. By the time I reach solid ground I feel faint and I become aware of some kind of liquid slipping down my skin. I fall to the ground and curl myself inwards, preparing for more and more bites but none come. My hand brushes against many raised bumps that have formed on the soft flesh of my face and my fingers come away coated in dark liquid.

I drag myself as far as I dare and come to a tangle of stray branches where I collapse, the world becoming even darker around me.

**Gem Smoke, 16, District One**

We tread across countless wooden platforms, not tied to one place like so many Career tributes of the past. Our supplies all fit in a few backpacks, we can go anywhere.

Of course that also means we have less supplies. We cannot be as careless with food, weapons, and other things as other Packs have been. We actually have to have a plan for how we are going to make these things last. Athena has definitely not made survival an immediate priority, however. She seems like the typical District Two girl, hell bent on killing everything in sight. I am not even sure where she is leading us, it's impossible to tell where we are headed when I can hardly see three feet in front of my face.

A concentrated bright orange light illuminates a large tree that sits almost directly ahead of Athena, who flinches and draws back as it seems to appear out of nowhere. Her head quickly turns back to the rest of us who by now are staring back at the source of the bright orange light. I blink rapidly to clear the colorful spots that have appeared in the crevices of my eyes. When I am finally able to see clearly again the first thing I see is the surprised face of Channing as he looks down into the light that radiates from his chest.

An almost identical light flickers into existence about twenty feet to my right, lighting up the terrified eyes of a little brown haired girl. She stares down at her own light before her eyes move to us. Nobody moves or even appears to breath, we just look at each other and all of their faces show genuine surprise. Which I am sure my own expression mimics.

The small girl begins to run further into the trees, the light swings quickly with her panicked movements but does not disappear or even fade. Channing is quick to race after her, his own orange light bobbing as he sprints. Fin is the first to snap out of his trance, taking off after the two tributes, and the rest of us follow quickly on his heels.

My mind races as we run further and further across the platform, hitting a wooden bridge and following the two bright lights that hurry across it, getting closer and closer together as Channing catches up to the younger girl. It must be the pendants of their necklaces that are lighting up. But why only theirs? None of the rest of ours has so much as glowed, what makes Channing's and this girl's suddenly decide to start?

The two orange lights are now nearly on top of each other and they stop, allowing the rest of us to catch up to them. When we reach them, half of us out of breath, we can see the scene clearly in front of us. Channing holds the small girl by her foot and she dangles upside down, not even bothering to scream but sobbing quietly. Channing doesn't even take notice of us and shakes her slightly, as if testing what he can do to her before she finally breaks.

When his face turns towards us I can almost see guilt, or pain, in his darkened eyes. Fin laughs beside me and moves towards where Channing holds the girl. Before Fin can get within a few feet of them Channing narrows his eyes at him and tossed the girl to his side like she weighed now more than a piece of cloth. I hear a scream from below us and a thick splash. The light that radiates from the girl's chest illuminates her eyes for a second as she falls. The last thing that we can see from below is the deep red liquid as it swallows her whole.

Channing's own light dies a couple moments later and his dead eyes disappear from my view. It isn't until this point that I realize who that girl was. It was his district partner.

But if he looks so regretful now, why did he kill her at all?

**Buttercup Rhodes, 17, District Nine**

A cannon boom causes shivers to travel down my spine. Sparks and Lacey's steps don't so much as falter as the chilling sound echoes in our ears, signaling the end of another young life.

My hands still tremble from those many hours ago when I'd almost been one of those cannons, a meaningless sound in the ears of the other tributes. Sometimes even a welcome sound as it means your chances have increased of becoming victorious. I'm not sure if I could ever feel happy about hearing that noise though, no matter what it gained me. I am dreading tonight when I will have to see the faces of the tributes that have already died in this horrible place.

I had climbed up a ladder to get to the above platform, the only way I really could have gone without being able to burrow through the walls of the starting room. Once I had reached the place I had looked around me to see at least three corpses that were long dead, eyes forever open, staring at me as though I had been the one to kill them. The boy from Four threw me down onto the wooden boards, stood over me with an eerie smirk and a silver spear pointing at me teasingly. I had cried, sobbed loudly, the boy had moved closer and closer to me. Mocking me with that sadistic grin that he always seemed to wear. Sparks saved me, just barely reaching him in time to punch him in the face and drag me away before that weapon had found a place in my body. Never have I been so scared in my life. Not even just scared, vulnerable. Back in District Nine I didn't have to worry about this. Sure, my family never was the wealthiest but we did alright. No one there had to worry about being killed in the middle of the night. I don't think anyone in here was above killing someone in their sleep, only one comes out after all.

There were only three of us now, Sparks, Lacey, and I, treading through the darkness of the arena. The last member of our alliance just another facet that would appear later tonight in the starry sky. Never to be seen again except by those who would attend her funeral. If she was even lucky enough to have one.

I still couldn't get the vision out of my head. That girl with the straight black hair, holding Aras whose feet dangled two feet off the ground. Kicking helplessly at the girl's legs before a knife is shoved into her body, halting any movement from my young ally. The girl dropping Aras to the ground like she was something disgusting that didn't deserve her cruel touch. The choked sobs still echo in my ears, those few seconds where everything seemed to freeze, though the girl's face remained stoic and unaffected as she plunged the knife into the twelve year old girl's skull.

That's all she was, a twelve year old girl caught in this storm of carelessness and murder. None of us deserve this, but someone so small stands no chance in winning. It was a death sentence the second she was Reaped. But no one should be able to do that so carelessly to someone so small, maybe some people think that the Capitol is at fault for all this, but no one could be changed so much by all this that they are able to kill a twelve year old girl. That girl is just evil and nothing can change that.

Despite what I decided before about keeping my morals the same, if I ever see that girl before I die, I will kill her.

**Dustin Shores, 16, District Ten**

"Faster everyone, we have to get as far as we can before we stop to rest," Echo whisper-shouts as she hurries on ahead of us. It is so dark that even though I walk just steps behind her, all I can make out is the shape of the small backpack that bobs on her thin shoulders. It felt like just a couple hours since we entered this place and already it's too dark to walk safely. I don't know what this means for us, but whatever it is can't be good.

Nobody seems to have any injuries yet, aside from the few random scratches that litter all of our faces and arms from tree branches. My hands ache from the many things we had crossed. This arena is like nothing I have seen on the screens in District Ten, most of those are simple and easy to figure out. At first this one looked like any others, but as we have found out there are hidden passageways in this place.

After escaping from the Cornucopia, we'd run across a swinging, rope bridge that felt like it might break at any point. Many platforms were scattered within this arena, with several ways to get to them. Unlike the rope bridge, some weren't quite so easy to maneuver. One of them was no more than a few round platforms that were separated by forest, with a long, hanging rope to take you from one to the other. Barley and I had gone across those ropes, seeing if there was anything worth going across with the rest of our group for. It had turned out there was nothing but a large platform at the end so we returned back on the ropes, one at a time, and reported our finding to Echo. She decided that we should continue on and find somewhere else to camp for the night, eyeing Chryssa and probably thinking how incapable the smaller girl was of crossing any intricate pathways.

I can already tell that Echo doesn't particularly appreciate Chryssa being in the alliance. She had only really wanted Barley and I but her district partner Dusty had worked his way in and Barely insisted on bringing Chryssa along as well. Echo wasn't happy about it and I know that feeling has not changed, but I hope we can all figure out a way to get along. That's what we are supposed to do after all.

Suddenly a light appears in the darkness, not just a small, glowing sort of light either. A bright, blinding light the color of mud that focuses on a tree trunk that must be fifty or sixty feet away. I turn and Echo does the same, the murky light shoots right into my eyes and I have to hold up a hand to partially cover them before I am able to see anything.

The light comes from two round sources, and illuminated above them are the pale, surprised faces of Chryssa and Barley. None of us seem to know what to do and we just stare at each other. Echo's instincts appear to kick into overdrive as she rushes forward and clamps one of her hands over each of the light sources, which I can see now are the large pendants that we all wear.

"Dustin, help!" She is definitely panicked now and I walk over and take one of the pendants from Echo, clutching it with both my hands. The light still seeps out of it but in much less concentration, though my palm begins to feel hot.

"Take them off and get rid of them!" Chryssa screeches and tries desperately to get the large chain off from around her neck.

"No!" Echo shouts and removes one hand from Barley's pendant to grab her arm. "Remember, they told us not to ever take them off."

"Why not?" I ask, my hands hurting more and more with the intensifying heat.

"I don't know," she whispers but even in that quiet voice she manages to sound like the leader she has become. It's funny because even though Barley and I are far larger than she, we still do whatever she tells us to. It's like she just demands the respect. "We have to separate them."

"What?" Barley and Chryssa say in quiet unison, their eyes wide and so child-like that it appears as though by saying this Echo had punched them both in the face.

"Neither mine nor Dustin's necklaces are lit up, only yours," she explains quickly. "What is the only thing that makes you guys different from us?"

"They're district partners," I breathe, finally understanding what Echo is thinking. That's why their necklaces are the same color, these pendants connect them somehow.

Barley and Chryssa look at each other, stunned expressions taking over their faces. Echo begins to pull Barley by his chair to the far side of the platform. As this happens the light appears to dim slightly. I lead Chryssa to the other end of the platform and it dulls further.

"It's not far enough!" Echo calls and takes one hand off Barley's pendant to point behind me. When I turn to look behind me I can just make out the outline of another long bridge. I pull Chryssa along like a dog on a leash and I can hear her begin to cry. I hesitate for only a minute before hurrying her over to the wooden bridge, carefully maneuvering us across it. Only when we get to the end does her necklace cease glowing altogether. Her face is mildly visible in the dark night, streaked with tears and something of resentment. When I finally release her necklace, she tries to run back across the bridge and her gem starts shining immediately. I grab her by the collar of her sweater and pull her back to the platform.

"You can't go back Chryssa, the light is like a beacon. Anyone could find us!"

"But I don't want to leave him," she sobs and buries her face in my shirt, "I don't want to leave him."

**Marina Crest, 17, District Four**

We finally reach a camp that satisfies both Athena and Gem. Even though Athena may be the leader, something about Gem seems to command everybody's respect. When we thought we'd found the perfect platform, Gem had cut in that we would be far too exposed and led us to this smaller, more concealed platform. Athena didn't object and so we all just dubbed this our temporary camp and got settled.

I sit down next to Zircon who winks at me and grabs a bag of dried fruit from my pack, shoving some pieces into his mouth. I roll my eyes at him and he just winks again. I grab a handful of the dried fruit from the bag he is holding and stuff some into my mouth, cringing at the sour taste of some of the pieces that I cannot recognize. Gem turns on some sort of light tube and I have to blink away the spots that cloud my vision. When I finally am able to see again I notice that Athena also holds a light tube and stands in front of us with one hand on her hip.

"Who wants first watch tonight?"

She points the flashlight at each of us in turn and when the flashlight lands on me I nod my head slightly, holding up a hand to shield my eyes from the light. When the light beam lands on Channing he also nods.

"Okay, Channing and Marina you're up first. In a few hours wake up Zircon and Gem for the next watch. Then you two wake up Fin and myself for the final watch," Athena orders. "Got it? Good."

With that she makes herself comfortable by leaning up against a tree trunk that enters through the middle of our makeshift camp. Everyone jumps when the familiar Capitol anthem begins to play through the arena, clearing our ears of the previous cricket chirping and leaf rustling. We all look up to the small hole in the forest canopy through which we can see the Capitol seal, shining brightly in the near black sky.

The first image that follows the seal is Hunter's. I hear a few short intakes of breath and I find myself speechless. We all kind of said how he wouldn't make it very far, but I don't think any of us really believed it. He was strong even without the training, he was pretty clever too. I look around at the confused expressions of my allies and I already can tell that none of them killed him. That just leaves that question unanswered. Who killed this would-be Career?

Hunter's pale face fades from the sky and is replaced with the sweet expression of the little girl from Five. Her being the youngest in these Games, it was no wonder that she would be a bloodbath death. Though I cannot shake the eerie feeling I got when I saw Gem kill her so easily. Both of us are trained, we are supposed to be able to kill anything and anyone that could threaten us. But I think that I might feel some regret in killing someone so obviously helpless. Gem doesn't even blink from where she sits, staring up at the sky so intensely I would think it would catch fire.

The girl's district partner is also shown. His face barely giving me anything to recognize. I cannot remember anything about him, not what he trained with, nor his interview or chariot entrance. Absolutely nothing. His face fades and a few seconds later I cannot even recall what his face looked like.

Both the District Sixes also find a place amongst the stars, the girl first with her strong scowl and dense eyes. I can't help but remember her from training, she seemed fairly strong. Possibly even a threat to us once she joined with Hunter and the District Three male. That just shows you that even the strong can fall short sometimes. The boy is a different matter entirely. Even though he is noticeably older than the District Five girl, his face bears the same innocence as hers. That kind of unwavering smile that only a young child, who has not yet faced the cruelty of the world, can bear.

The District Seven boy is next, he appears to be the same age as the Six boy, though his face is etched with a kind of toughness that the other boy lacked. You can tell that his innocence had been lost long ago, something that seems to happen a lot with the tributes in the Games. You never see a Victor who bears a smile unless it is paired with a deadened appearance in their eyes. To me he looks just like those Victors that return to District Four, seemingly pure and joyous, but anyone could see the lifelessness in their eyes.

I remember the District Eight boy's death so clearly, his horrific laughter that seemed to echo inside my skull before Fin ripped into his throat with a spear, ending it almost immediately. I can still hear that laugh when I shut my eyes, I don't think I will ever get it out of my head. The tension in the group is palpable, everyone can remember the dying laughter of the boy from Eight.

A girl with a faraway look in her eyes appears after the red hair of the boy has faded. I remember her name well, Sage Rosse. One of the two people that Channing always mentioned as being his to kill and his only. I never understood his obsession with killing them but I didn't exactly feel like testing his threats, he didn't seem like the type to be bluffing.

The image fades away and we are left with only the dim light of the tubes to see our surroundings with. Just as I begin to turn to grab another handful of dried fruit from Zircon I hear a low growl from behind me and see something come out of the trees behind us and tackle Zircon to the ground. A battle cry is let out from the attacker and Zircon yells, I do nothing but scramble to my feet and back away as quickly as I can, fear taking over my entire system. I hear a gurgling sound and the flashlight beam lands on the spot where Zircon lies pinned to the floor by another male with thick, dark hair and deathly pale skin. Zircon clutches his throat and his head bobs up and down against the wooden planks, blood spraying out through the spaces between his fingers. His shoulders tuck in towards his body and then the bobbing ceases. A cannon sounds in the distance but still none of seem to know what to do.

The boy jumps at me and I scream involuntarily as he tries hard to bring me to the ground. I flail out with my arms, continuously slapping him in the face all the while keeping my eyes shut. If only I had a weapon, I should have always kept a weapon with me. How stupid can I be, I'm going to die so soon and all I can do is kick and scream?

A force pulls the boy off me and I take in many hard breaths, falling to my knees on the hard platform. Fin holds the boy by his collar, a slightly confused expression still playing on his face as he wrestles the knife from the boy's grasp. Channing grabs the knife from Fin and plunges it deeply into the middle of the male's chest. His body pulls forward and bright red blood sprays out of the wound, catching both me and Channing with the crimson liquid. I wipe it away from my eyes and watch as Fin drops the boy to the ground where he lands with a thump, in tune to the distant cannon.

Channing turns to look back at me, sprays of blood coating his face and a smirk playing on the ends of his lips.

"Couldn't handle a little surprise attack, eh Marina?" he laughs, "some killer you're showing yourself to be."

I scowl at him from where I kneel on the platform, my eyes not wavering from his dark orbs. I stand and clear off another spot of blood that seeps into my mouth. All the while thinking, what if he's right?

* * *

**Kindra Crimson, District Twelve**

**Zircon Spinel, District One**

**Faction Papers, District Nine  
**

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Voices of Violence  
**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile, deaths will be notified here.  
**

**I am terribly sorry to the creators that have lost their tributes, I do hope that you will stick around to see the progression of the story. If not then that is okay too and I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Characters were killed based on points, personality, and of course whether or not their creator reviewed. Hopefully no hard feelings if your character is gone. **

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**The first major twist has been unleashed into the arena! The necklace twist! I hope I wrote it well and hopefully you guys enjoyed it! Leave me a review and tell me what you thought of this chapter, the tributes, the twist, the arena so far, who do you think will fall next, anything :D I really appreciate it!**


	10. Lost and Never Found

_In a crooked little town, they were lost and never found_

_Fallen leaves, fallen leaves, fallen leaves on the ground_

_Run away before you drown, or the streets will beat you down_

_Fallen leaves, fallen leaves, fallen leaves on the ground_

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**Athena Roddrick, 17, District Two**

Nobody had wanted to sleep last night. Not after that boy attacked us and killed Zircon.

Everyone is on edge, some not as obviously, such as Channing and Gem, but some are even noticeably shaking like Marina.

I needed them to be weak so that they would never feel like they don't need me. But I never wanted them to be scared of anything except me. The Hunger Games entails going through hell to get out, but I think this is only starting to sink in for most of these tributes. The only thing I can do is keep us going and hopefully keep as much of our Pack together as I can without any more surprise deaths or attacks. I think if we get another than I might have to leave the Careers early this year. I can't have anyone dragging me down.

"Wake up," I say shortly and everyone whips their head around to face my direction. I note the slightly alarmed expressions that take up most of their faces and it's enough to make me want to scream. We volunteered for this! They had to have known it was going to be hard, that's why it is such an honor to win. Because only one can.

We gather our supplies in silence, and for once I miss Zircon's flirting phrases. At least they would fill the silence that seems to be hulking over our entire group like a storm cloud. A few minutes later we set of across another rope bridge that seems to stretch for miles. The bridge sways under our weight and I tell everyone to spread out so that we are each about ten feet away from each other. Even though the Careers tend to be the Capitol's favourites, I don't trust the Gamemakers to not decide on cutting the bridge for us. Dying is not a risk I am willing to take.

"Hey!" Fin yells excitedly from his place about thirty feet behind me. "Look over there!"

I follow his bouncing hand that is pointing out to my left side. On a platform at least a hundred feet away I can just make out a trio of girls sitting to the side of the brown shape. One of the girl's is easier to spot than the others, it's impossible to miss the bright red hair of the District Three girl, even from this distance. The other two I do not notice but they both look faintly similar because of the dark shade of their hair.

Fin lifts one of his spears up from his side and takes aim at the girls who have yet to notice us watching them. Marina shoots him a glare but he waves her off and releases the spear from his hands with a smooth motion. The spear glides through the air but I can already tell it does not have enough power to make it to the girls. Sure enough it drops when it gets about three-quarters of the way to them and then disappears into the bubbling red liquid on the forest floor.

The girls notice us now and they hurry to gather their meager amount of supplies into the two backpacks they appear to have gotten from the Cornucopia. Marina releases one of her many throwing knives towards the platform but it too falls short and disappears into the red liquid. Marina curses under her breath and stomps her foot, causing the bridge to sway further and earning an intense glare from Gem and I.

The three girls run off into the surrounding foliage and the last thing I see is the District Three redhead holding up her hand to us as her bright hair disappears from view. I think she just gave us the finger.

**Lacey Thim, 16, District Eight**

My ponytail catches on a branch and I am flung backwards into Buttercup who hits the ground with a loud thud. Sparks runs into her and just barely catches herself in time to not trip over her and land face-first on the wooden platform. I stand there staring down at Buttercup, my chest rising and falling in quick bursts.

That had been close, far too close for any of us to handle. We had thought ourselves lucky, none of us had seen even a small glimpse of a tribute since the Bloodbath. We'd even started to relax a bit; assuming that everyone else must be on the other side of the arena and that we were safe as can be.

You're never safe in the Hunger Games, we should have realized this.

I close my eyes and think of the last time I had ever felt safe. It hadn't been on Reaping Day, that is for certain. I think it was a few nights before that actually, when my boyfriend Riley came to my shack after work to stay with me. I never liked being by myself, and though I never told him that, I think he sensed it. He would sit there for hours and hold me in his willowy arms, like he wanted to be nowhere else than here with me. Whenever he was around I didn't have to be worried about someone breaking into my house, all I would think about was his warm breath on my neck.

I have never had to take tesserae because I have a fairly well-paying job as a seamstress. I never had enough to eat but it was better, so much better than when I lived at home. It was only this year that I had managed to get up the courage to leave my wealthy parents, the same wealthy parents that never let me out from under their perfect thumbs. I may not be as well off without them to support me but I am much happier now. Or I was at least, before all this happened.

Living on my own I learned to take care of myself, but now I have two other people to look out for. Sparks who seems to have changed a lot from the shy, quirky girl I met in training. It seems as if the Games have already made her harder and more motivated, even though it has been less than two days since they started. I'm not sure what is going on with her, it's as if in coming to the arena she has undergone a complete personality transition that was certainly not gradual. It's as if she is an entirely different person.

Buttercup is the one whom I must actually look out for, she doesn't appear to be taking the entire atmosphere of this place in very easily, not that I can blame her in the least. She isn't prepared for this, none of us are. But it seems to have hit home with her more so than with me or Sparks, especially for the fact that Aras is not longer part of our group. I hadn't really had time to dwell on the fact of her death, it seemed surreal to me that she is really dead. I have to keep reminding myself that she really does exist, or did.

I help Buttercup up and Sparks rolls her eyes as Buttercup stops to dust off her dark grey pants that cut off just below the knee for some reason. I assume that this arena won't get very cold, the Capitol wouldn't enjoy watching us all freeze to death. I think they appreciate the deaths to be a bit more... red.

Sparks starts to move ahead of us and I let her, it's not as if I had any idea where we were supposed to be going. Buttercup lines up after her and I take up the rear. Within a few minutes Sparks stops and Buttercup runs into her back, earning herself another narrow-eyed glare. Buttercup grins sheepishly and takes a few steps back, slamming her back into my chest. She turns around with a terrified look in her eyes and I shake my head, a warm smile on my face. Her expression calms and I turn her around by her shoulders to face Sparks who is already a quarter of the way across a thin brown rope that extends over the red pool that is at least a hundred metres below us.

Buttercup stares back at me with a new look of fright taking over her lightly tanned face. I nod in what I hope to be an encouraging way and she turns her head back to face Sparks who is moving quickly along the rope, arms extended above her to grasp another piece of brown. Buttercup takes a few steps forward and takes hold of the higher rope in one of her hands. She looks back at me once more before inching out onto the thin, unsteady line. Her feet shuffle forward, inch by inch, Buttercup's entire body as stiff as a board. She trips a bit but regains her balance quickly.

When she has gotten about ten feet out, I grab hold of the rope, careful not to swing it in anyway so to make my allies uncomfortable. My feet shuffle along just as Buttercup's are and I hold my breath as I begin to move further and further away from the side of the platform. I maintain my eyes' focus on the rope above me until a sharp pull on the upper rope nearly sends me falling into the red pool below. I look ahead and see Buttercup holding on stiffly to the upper rope, her knuckles white as she tries to keep a grip. Both her feet dangle beneath her, unable to catch on the rope that hangs just a foot or two above her ankles.

Her screeches hurt my ears but I am unable to remove my hands so to cover my ears. I move forward at a far faster pace, hurrying to reach my ally before her grip gives out. Sobs shake her body and she keeps her eyes closed tightly, oblivious to my presence even when I am standing directly beside her. I lean down carefully but I cannot reach the lower rope. Shivers rock my knees but I allow myself to let go, holding myself up now only by the lower rope. I whisper to Buttercup to stay still and her sobs turn to whimpers, torturing my ears and reminding me that I may not be able to save either of us now.

"Lift one of your feet up," I instruct her in a soothing voice and she does. I remove one of my hands from the rope to guide her foot up onto it and the other slowly follows. Her body still shakes but she begins to shuffle forward once again.

I use her shoulder as a grip, letting my knees straighten until I can once again reach the line above my head. We move ahead in silence, meeting an impatient Sparks on the other side.

**Echo Osuushi, 16, District Seven**

"We have to keep moving," I insist and steady myself onto the wooden boards of the platform that feel so solid and comforting beneath my shaking legs. I don't understand this arena, I don't think any of us do. It's a forest but it's also so much more than that, this is nothing like the usual terrain. It is located solely within the trees instead of beneath it, with intricate and complicated pathways to bring us from platform to platform. I could never tell where we were or even if we had been in a spot before, everything looked nearly identical. The shape and coloring of the platforms remained uniform, the leaves of each tree looked no different than the leaves of another. This was so much different than the arenas I remember watching on the screens in District Seven.

The only good thing is that I would wager the Career tributes are just as confused as the rest of us, this arena gives them no secure location with which to keep the upper hand over the rest of us. If we can just keep going through this never-ending maze, there is a miniscule probability that we will be found by anything which is something I hope to avoid for as long as possible.

After only a couple steps on the smooth, solid wood, I am faced with another rope-made obstacle. This one is a lengthy ladder created from a row of wooden planks, each separated by about half a foot of rope. The bridge sways in the wind and I consider leading my alliance in another direction, though when I look around I see that the only other way to get off this platform would be to go back the way we came.

When finally Dustin pulls himself onto the platform behind Chryssa and Barley, I motion to the unsteady bridge with one hand. I can tell by the tense expressions on their faces that they hate this idea as much as I do, but I have to show them that they were right to follow me. If I begin leading them backwards instead of forwards than maybe they will decide they don't need me anymore. I have never been particularly close to any of the three of them, I could be killed in my sleep and not even missed.

No one makes a move towards the bridge so I decide to go first once again, I step lightly onto the first rung to test its stability. Sure enough the bridge moves along with my weight, dancing in the air above the blood-like liquid that coats the bottom of the entire arena. I place my other foot on the bridge in front of the first and the bridge steadies slightly, I begin to move forward ever so slowly until a flinch in the rope slams my knees down onto the boards.

When I look behind me I see Barley following cautiously behind me, deciding that it would be better to do so I begin to clamber over the bridge on my hands and knees. I move noticeable quicker and feel much more stable. By the time I am halfway over the bridge, all my fellow allies are crawling across on their hands and knees, mimicking my movements exactly.

A shriek from behind me nearly sends me flying over the edge of a plank but I catch myself in enough time. I whip my head around to look behind me and see that Chryssa is shrieking hysterically and pointing behind me, all while trying to maintain her balance on the bridge. I finally focus my eyes away from Chryssa to see a single pair of hands reaching up from below the bridge. A lump forms in my throat when I realize who it is. Chryssa is trying desperately to reach out to them, but her own balance is failing and she looks as though she might be the next to go over.

"Chryssa!" I screech and she turns to stare straight at me with wide, panicked eyes. "Leave him! You'll get yourself killed too!"

She draws back immediately, steadying herself for long enough that Barley can reach over and pull her away from the edge of the planks. He reaches down to Dustin but their hands cannot touch, Dustin struggles to keep his grip but when he readjusts his hands he ends up losing one. His fair eyes travel between all of us, frozen in fear and paralyzed for our ally. He gives one last, warm smile and, his eyes kind and forgiving, before he releases the only thing keeping him alive. Chryssa screams out once again but I don't move my eyes away from Dustin's body as he falls closer and closer to the red pool.

An inaudible splash and then he is gone from view. All three of us stare down at the ground, secretly hoping to see him resurface, hoping to see his warm eyes peer up at us and invite us down for a swim. But he doesn't resurface and even after a cannon blast echoes through the arena we remain frozen in place, no one finding the strength to move away. The only noise present being the quick, raspy sobs as Chryssa buries her face in Barley's shirt.

**Buttercup Rhodes, 17, District Nine**

The sky goes dark unnaturally fast here, it's as if someone just throws a blanket over the entire arena and all light is taken from us. My nails dig into the thin fabric that surrounds Lacey's wrist and she flinches under my grip. I try to move my hand away but I can't help myself from reaching out to her, to something familiar that I know rests in the bleak darkness of the arena. She rests a warm hand on my shoulder and I feel almost instantly safe, well not safe exactly. But far more at peace.

My body tenses and my fingernails dig even deeper into Lacey's wrist when a scream from in front of me cuts through the silent darkness like a sharp knife. Lacey shoves me to the ground where I land with a soft thud, my right shoulder starts to ache with pain but I only register the feeling for roughly half a second until the light hits my eyes. I duck my head and try to get away from the pale blue light that seems to surround everything. I hear Sparks shrieking over and over, the noise bombarding my head with sharp pains. The light dulls slightly as Sparks turns away from us and I see an almost identical blue light some thirty feet away from where we are.

The pitch of her screams grow beyond what I thought to be humanly possible before they stop altogether. The pounding of her feet on the platform seems like a soft whisper to me as Sparks dashes after the other light source, her own lantern allowing us to see everything that lies ahead of her. Lacey helps me up and we take off after our ally, though she seems to get further and further away as we continue our chase.

The other light is soon joined by two more that become visible to me from between the tree branches. These two are much closer together and they nearly blend into each other to create a single, poignant blue light that is far darker than the one radiating off of Spark's chest. I can't tell for sure but I think they are heading in the same direction, towards the other pale blue light.

The second pale light continues to run further and further away until both the lights disappear, leaving only the two darker lights for Lacey and I to follow. We reach them soon enough and see that the whole of our surroundings are lit up as well. Every leaf on every tree is illuminated in a haunting dark blue and the dirt streaked faces come into better focus as I catch my breath. A girl with midnight black hair and ghostly pale skin stands to the side of the rest of the group, a sickly smile plastered into her delicate features.

That's when I notice who she is, the girl with black hair is the same one who I saw holding Aras at the Bloodbath. The same girl who took the life of my young ally, a girl with so much to live for and so much to lose. My body begins to shake with anger but I find myself unable to move. Lacey puts a hand on my shoulder but this time it feels as cold as ice. Everyone seems to just stand there, staring at one another for what feels like several minutes. My feet feel like they are frozen to the wooden planks, not allowing me to so much as wiggle my toes inside my thin sneakers.

Then I see it. A small flash of metal that glints in the blue light, flashing in the corner of my eye. With a flick of the black haired girl's thin wrist the silver is sent flying towards Sparks who has not yet even seen the small piece of metal.

The screams are gut-wrenching, enough to make me cover my ears and fall to my knees. The small blade, no longer than my index finger, is lodged up to the black handle in my ally's throat. Red paint drips down from her neck and her hands claw at the skin, trying desperately trying to dislodge the weapon that has already begun to draw the life out of her. She drops to her knees and her red hair gathers around her face, mixing with the crimson color that gushes freely from her throat. The shrieks stop all at once as she falls to one side, her hands dropping to the ground, her fingers tipped with dripping blood. A cannon sounds and sobs begin to make their way out of my throat, no longer paralyzed by the fear that overtook me. Another one of my allies is gone, and I didn't even try to help either of them.

Lacey screams suddenly and everyone turns to look at her. She charges forward at the raven haired girl whose expression remains calm, a short knife drawn in Lacey's tightly gripped fist. Lacey's face is a wild mask of rage as she runs forward to meet the girl who stands unmoving beside the trunk of a tree, her eyes holding Lacey's calmly. My ally positions her knife in front of her as she runs and as she gets within three feet of the girl, she moves. The small Career girl grabs hold of the shoulders of a much taller girl, pulling her in front of her and straight into the path of Lacey's knife.

The knife drives into the girl's stomach and rips messily through her right side, leaving a jagged line of skin and fabric in its wake. Blood begins to coat the girl's shirt and her face twists into a creature made ugly by pain, her body quakes but there is no sound coming from her lips. Drips of blood slide down from her mouth and splash silently on the wood like bloody, red tears.

Gem's hands drop the girl to the ground, pulling the knife out of the dying girl's body and wiping it carelessly on Lacey's shoulder. A cannon sounds but none of us take notice, all our eyes moving from between the corpse of the girl on the ground and the almost inevitable fight that lay in front of us. Lacey glares at the girl but the black haired tribute seems almost calm, throwing away the knife which lands with a metallic _clink _on the planks.

The arena begins to dim around us, as the dark blue light fades leaving us in complete darkness. I feel a hand on my shoulder and almost scream out before I am hauled to my feet and lead away by my arm. Lacey walks hurriedly away from the faded outline of the other tributes, making a point to be as quiet as possible.

**Channing Keynes, 18, District Twelve**

I notice two dim outlines making their way across the platform and I immediately know that it must be the allies of the redheaded girl that Gem had just killed. I remember the panicked look on the girl's pale face as the blood gushed from her neck and it makes me shiver. The worst kinds of deaths are the ones that take a while to claim a victim.

I squint my eyes but I cannot see even the fainted glimpse of Marina's corpse, Marina who had been unlucky enough to have been standing next to Gem when she had been attacked. Marina who was no more than a human shield. A dead, bloody shield.

"Why did my light die? I can't see anything!" Fin yells in frustration, his voice revealing the emotions he must be feeling at losing yet another seemingly easy kill.

"Because Marina's dead," Gem explains calmly, as if all of this must be common knowledge to everyone.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Fin yells again, this time further away from me as he moves towards Gem's voice. Almost as if she was a beacon of knowledge ready to enlighten him on everything related to the Hunger Games. As if she wasn't just as clueless as the rest of us on how the minds of the Gamemakers work.

"They are connected to your district partners, that is why your pendants were different than mine and Zircon's, and ours were different from Athena's," she continues, her voice steady but with an undertone of worry beneath it. "None of our lights will shine again, because our partners are dead now."

"Well if they were connected than why didn't they always glow," Fin spits but his voice has lost the frustration, now sounding almost tired and aged. "Or do you have some kind of explanation for that too, Gem?"

"They only glow when the Gamemakers want then too, they aren't targeting us. They want us to target the others."

Everyone stops talking after that, no one having the slightest idea of how to respond to what Gem had just said. Athena lights one of the flashlights, only now realizing that we had been standing in total darkness. We all decide without a word that we should start moving away from the corpses, and when we have travelled across a rope bridge I hear the telltale sign of a hovercraft nearby. The bridge sways in the wind but none of us stumble as we continue to float across it, silence overtaking the group. All of lost in our own thoughts.

Two people I know died in the Games last year, both of them being the tributes for District Twelve. I remember seeing them in the Capitol, made up and morphed into these so called perfect images of themselves. I remember the days and nights I spent sitting on the floor of my family's small home, my eyes never leaving the screen. Hoping to see a glimpse of them, hoping for a single vision that would show me they were alright.

I remember the day the news crew came, cameras flooding my desolate yard as I was sat down and asked countless questions about the two tributes. I pleaded with the people of the Capitol to send them sponsor gifts, to keep them both alive for as long as they would. To make sure that at least one of them came home to me, as I knew that both of them could not.

That night I sat myself in front of the fuzzy television to watch the Games, my stomach grumbling but my legs refusing to bring me to the kitchen to find something for dinner. I saw everything that had happened in that goddamn arena, saw the two people I cared most about killed. My girlfriend Lili. killed in her sleep, her throat slit by her supposed allies. My best friend Leon woke up before they could get to him, his screams echoed in my ears for several seconds before they finally ended his life with a knife through his ear, pushing down into his brain and killing him. The people that they had trusted with their lives, who were supposed to stick with them until the very end. The tributes from ten who never even blinked an eye before ending their lives.

That was my goal since the moment I was Reaped, to get revenge on the traitors that come from District Ten. To make them pay for the lives their tributes took. To make them suffer for leaving me without the only two people I had ever cared about. There was no mercy for Lili or Leon, so why should they get any from me. The girl was already dead, I had been lucky enough to catch her as she was trying to escape the Bloodbath. The boy was still in here somewhere. But I would find him, I would find him.

We stop and make ourselves comfortable on a fairly large platform. I lean myself against a tree and prepare for first watch which had been designated to Marina and I that morning, but with the turn of events it seemed I would be staying up alone. The sky is filled with a glowing blue as the Capitol seal comes into view amongst the tree branches and the anthem is played through the night air. Three cannon sounds had been heard today, and the first two images match the visions of the corpses that stick in my head from earlier. The redhead girl from Three and Marina.

I begin to search through my pack for some sort of food when the last image catches in the corner of my eye. I bring my head right around until the fleeting image can be seen entirely. I was right, it's the boy from Ten, the same boy I had set my sights on since day one. He was dead and I was not the killer. I was not there to condemn him and see the pain on his face that I remember seeing on Leon's. A mixture of anger and frustration causes my body to shake but the feeling is cut short when I notice something standing off to the side of the tree line. A smooth, black figure looking upon our group.

* * *

**Dustin Shores, District Ten**

**Sparks Jadestone, District Three**

**Marina Crest, District Four  
**

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Fallen Leaves  
**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile, deaths will be notified here.  
**

**I am terribly sorry to the creators that have lost their tributes, I do hope that you will stick around to see the progression of the story. If not then that is okay too and I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Characters were killed based on points, personality, and of course whether or not their creator reviewed. Hopefully no hard feelings if your character is gone. **

* * *

**I cannot believe how quickly this story has progressed. If you can believe it we are already down to our final ten tributes! Please review and tell me how you like this story thus far and also who your ideal final five would be, and who or what you think the black figure watching the Careers could be!**


	11. Flower in a Field of Weeds

_I think I found a flower in a field of weeds._

_Searching until my hands bleed,_

_This flower don't belong to me._

* * *

**Bolt Fresia, 17, District Three**

I open my eyes but the sky is still dark with only the dim moon and blinking stars to cast light in the vast arena. Everything in my vision screams to me that it should still be night, but the chirping of the birds and the warm climate interrupted by only the odd breeze alerts me to the fact that it must be morning. Or at least day time. I push off the ground beneath my head and bring myself into a sitting position, as soon as my head leaved the hard wooden floor pain begins to shoot through me and the dimmed world around me begins to spin around and around, forcing me to close my eyes and wait for the black spots to dance out from beneath my eyelids. When my head ceases to spin I roll my head around my neck and hear the cracking of my stiff joints, releasing the high pressure within my body. I sit up straighter and crack my back, sighing at the relief that courses through my body at the movement.

I run my fingers along my cheek and feel several raised bumps on the skin that I do not remember being there before. I pull up the sleeves of my sweater and feel around my skin, also finding hard bumps on the surface. I check my stomach and legs, both covered in the strange rash. I begin to panic, wondering what they could possibly be until I remember what had happened the last moments that I can remember.

I had been walking across something, a bridge perhaps, something raised no doubt. Something had bitten into my skin, pain rushed through y body as I tried to get back to the platform but it took too long. I collapsed immediately.

How long was I out for?

I let out my breath and thank whatever force had kept me alive up to this point. I had no idea what day it was. No idea how long I had been knocked out for. Knew not how many tributes were still alive or who they were. The only thing i knew right now was that I was alive, and that whatever pain had caused me to go unconscious was gone, leaving only these strange bumps on my skin as proof of what had happened.

"You're fine, Bolt."

I hear a mystical voice come from behind me and I turn to look in that direction. The only thing I see is blackness and I shake my head, sure that this was nothing more than a ridiculous figment of my twisted imaginations. Sure that this was not the voice I thought it was.

"I know where you'll be safe," a new voice comes and I almost cry out with glee at how sure he sounds. This couldn't possibly be my imagination, fate would not be this cruel as to torture me with these familiar voices. "Follow us, Bolt."

And I do, I get up and search frantically for the voices that cause me so much comfort. I don't care anymore if they are only figments of my imagination, I just want them to be real so badly that I cannot lose the hope that they are really here. That my allies have come back to save me from this hell.

A faint outline becomes visible to me and I run towards it, only to see the shape turn tail and run away from me. I pump my legs harder and harder as I try to follow the shape as it is soon joined by another, taller shape. The only thing that I can make out about them besides their black outline is a spot of color that sits where their chests might be, one silver and one gold. I remember the Bloodbath, when I lost them both. That was the color Margi and Hunt wore around their necks, it must be them! They have come to save me, I'm not going to be alone any more.

I keep running and stumble on the bridge, nearly falling off the structure entirely but not caring, I have to follow them, I can't lose them again. I fall to my knees once I get to a platform after tripping over a stray root. I look up and see lights ahead, not the pointed ray that I remember coming off the pendants, but three of the same, yellow-red color, lighting up trees around them.

A light beam falls on one of the carriers of the rays and I see the face of the Career leader lit up in the night. My blood freezes and my eyes do not leave her. I look to the shadowy figures that lead me and notice that even up close I can see no more than a faint, black outline and the colored circle. These aren't my allies, they are dead, gone. It's a trap, it's always been a trap. The Capitol is using the dead tributes to get to us. And it worked.

"Bolt, follow us."

"We know where it's safe."

"No you don't," I whimper, pushing my hands into my ears to try and block out their chanting voices. I curl my body in on itself, creating a barrier around myself to keep out the evil mutts that the Capitol has created to break me. But still their voices find their way inside my head, and still I feel apt to listen to them.

**Barley Haystack, 17, District Eleven**

My arms hits the wood hard and I wake up with a start. I look around but see only darkness around me, though I know by the warmth that surrounds me that it must be morning, nights have always been cold in the arena, with the warmth only coming at daybreak. The moon illuminates the space around me and I see Echo asleep just a few paces away from me, I turn to my other side, expecting to see Chryssa but she isn't there. My eyes fly open wide with panic and my heart begins to race. I rise quickly to my feet and look around frantically, when I am positive that she is not there I shake Echo awake and tell her the news.

"What do you mean she's not there?" Echo questions, no real hint of sympathy in her voice but I know she is only trying to hide it. Even though she has shown little care for my district partner I know she must just be trying to appear strong, Echo has to be a good person inside. Yes, I am convinced of it.

"She's gone, that's what I mean!" I whisper-shout, wanting to cry out loud but keeping my voice down in fear of being heard. In fear that whatever has caused Chryssa to run off is still here watching us, in fear that maybe it got her and is just waiting for the right moment to strike out at Echo and I and take us as well.

"Well where is she!?" Echo's voice grows slightly louder now and she has to clamp a hand over her own mouth afterwards to keep from shouting. Her eyes are wide and I can see it now, the fear that I feel inside my own body. The fear that she has of losing someone else in such a short period of time. Yesterday it was Dustin, it's too soon to lose another. Much too soon for either of us.

"I know where she is."

My breath catches in my throat and I see Echo's eyes widen further at the eerie voice that seems to shake me from my inner core. I recognize the voice, but only vaguely. It sounds so much like the tough voice of Dusty, our other ally, the one that died in the Bloodbath. The one we weren't able to save. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear Echo whimper his name under her breath, sounding so much like a small child that I almost want to wrap my arms around her and hug her tight. If only I wasn't so afraid to move.

"I know where she is," the voice repeats and I turn my head slowly in the direction of the sound, too scared to fully look but far too curious not to.

"W-Where?" I stutter and my eyes lock in on the dark outline of a body that stands just mere metres from Echo and I. In the centre of what I assume to be his chest is a ball of green, identical to the color of Echo's necklace. Even though the distance between us is close, I can see no sign of features or even the slightest difference in tone of the creature, only flat blackness in the shape of the boy's body. He says nothing but begins to move away from us, having little other choice, Echo and I get up and follow cautiously after it, ensuring that we leave enough space between us and the figure to be able to run away at the first hint of danger.

The day is dim and dark, but I am able to see most things around me, and as we approach a balcony I see spheres of light coming from beneath it. I rush over with Echo right at my heels, the figure momentarily forgotten. There are four lights, each swaying around calmly, illuminating various trees and obstacles as they sway around in the dark air. They are unlike the colorful lights that I had seen in the distance on previous nights, these ones less concentrated and in a group of four identical ones instead of two. One of the beams moves away from the others, as if it was going to investigate some noise it'd heard.

Then I see it, my blood runs cold and my feet feel frozen in place, as the dark day reveals the face of my district partner no more than a few metres away from the stray light. The other three hurry over and Chrysaa is caught in their beams as well, unable to move or, it appears, even breathe. The cold air feels suffocating as it slips down my throat. I want so badly to run, to help my young district partner. But something inside me holds me in place, maybe because I know that I cannot possibly save her.

**Fin Aquil, 18, District Four**

Channing spotted her first, sensing somehow the girl that was following us so closely. I couldn't help but smile when I saw her face in the night, I wanted, no, _needed _another kill. Gem and Channing had taken most of them in the past few days. I needed to prove myself, before they decided there was no point in keeping me around. This kill would be mine.

I charge forward into the dark night, the ray of light coming from the thin tube in my hand showing a clear path between me and my next victim. She didn't even move, just stood there with her mouth agape, eyes locked on me as I came closer and closer to her. This is easy, I tell myself, nobody is even trying to stop me. They know this kill is mine, they are scared to take this from me as they hear me let out a battle cry. I plunge a silver spear directly into the girl's chest and bright red liquid begins to squirt from the hole on contact.

Her blue eyes stare up at me, both round balls as big as saucers. Her pale face turns even paler as her eyes move down from my face to the silver pole sticking out of her chest. She sways a bit on her feet and brings up both hands to hold herself up by the spear, still held in place by my strong arm. It's somewhat ironic that she does this, clutching my weapon like a lifeline even though it is the very thing drawing the life out of her.

I release my grip on the spear and she falls to the ground on her side. I still see the light dancing in her blue eyes but it is fading quickly, as quickly as the river of blood that floods from her chest. Her eyes lock with mine and I can do nothing but stare back at them, holding them for several moments until a cannon blast shakes me back into reality. The reality that the only eyes staring back at me are those of a fresh corpse.

The three flashlight beams linger on the body a few moments longer before they find their way into my eyes, forcing me to bring a hand up to shield them.

"Finally got another kill, huh, Fin?" A voice from the darkness creates a lump in my throat too big to swallow. I stand as still as possible, hoping that the voice was no more than a hallucination. It couldn't be her. It just could not be her.

I see Athena and Channing by the light of Gem's flashlight, suddenly moving in different directions. It takes me a moment to see them, but once I do my eyes are unable to peel away from them. I whirl my flashlight around in the dark morning until the beam comes to rest at on the dark outline of a small person, with a dark blue circle where their chest would be. The same blue as the pendant that hangs around my neck, a color specific to just the two of us. The thing that spoke to me through her voice, could it really be her?

Athena lashes out ferociously with a sword she pulled from her belt, all her slashes meeting only the air where another black figure stands. The circle on her figure's chest, a poignant pink color, moving just fast enough to avoid being hit. But the figure itself makes no move to attack her, only taking the defensive tactic of dodging her blows. Finally, Athena lands a direct hit on the black figure, whose features remain undistinguishable even in the light of our flashlights. It does nothing to faze the creature and it continues to move about, its movements unhindered by the direct assault.

Gem takes a step towards Athena and places a hand on her shoulder, stopping her now slowed lashes altogether. Athena grunts in distaste but does not continue with her assault on the figure, instead turning towards where Gem stands.

"They're not created to fight us," she murmurs and the rest of us nod in agreement. Usually the mutts created to hurt us are able to be hurt as well, creating an indestructible creature would make for no surprises in the Games. Most of them were nearly impossible to kill, but there was always a way to hurt them. These things, whatever they were, did not attack us, nor did they respond badly to a direct injury. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, a mutt that appeared invincible, created from the destroyed tributes.

"Then what are they created to do," Athena says loudly, throwing her arms up in frustration at being shown up by the smaller girl once again. "Please enlighten us seeing as you _always _have the answers, Gem."

"I don't know."

All hope I had in me vanished with theses three words from the lips of a girl two years my junior. It was true, what Athena had said, Gem always knew what was going on. For once she didn't, and it makes me scared. The girl with all the answers, has found a dead end.

**Buttercup Rhodes, 17, District Nine**

I thought she was dead, gone, that I would never see her again. My mind plays tricks on me in here; I can't tell what's real or what's only a figment of some cruel imagination. Could I have only hallucinated their deaths? Were they falsified just like the dark morning and the eerie bird sounds, which could not possibly been real? It would be so easy to discern these ridiculous ideas of revival from my mind, had I not just heard them speak with my own ears.

"We can keep you safe, Buttercup."

"Just come with us."

It's been the same two sentences over and over for what feels like hours upon hours. Sometimes the voices would switch and one would take on the other's phrase, but for the most part it was the same. The first sentence being spoken by a strong, brash voice and the other by a small, calming one. I feel inclined to follow the voices, even if I have no idea where I am being led. I have walked for much time but still no destination is in sight, no sign of this safe haven that Aras and Sparks promise me. Still though I keep following the two black figures that lead me on a seemingly never-ending quest through the darkened arena. Speaking those reassuring words each time I pause to catch my breath, or remember Lacey whom I have not seen since daybreak yesterday. Come to think of it, why isn't she here with me? I pause to consider this, looking back to check and make sure that she has not been following behind me this entire time, but she isn't there. Only the black figures and their voices remind me that I am not completely alone.

"We can keep you safe, Buttercup."

"Just come with us."

"You've said that, how far are we?" I whimper, my legs beginning to hurt as I continue to tread along just far enough away from the girls that they remain black figures in my eye.

There is no answer, but I continue along behind them, not wanting to be left behind when they go to the safe place. I want so badly to be safe. Safe is a feeling I have all but abandoned hopes of ever seeing again, nothing in this place makes me feel safe. Lacey makes me feel as close as possible, the younger girl having a calming effect on my just through her kind words, but nothing is the same anymore. Nothing will ever be the same I don't think.

"We can keep you safe, Buttercup."

I must have paused again, the voices only start up when I stop walking. That's why I have to keep going, I have to make it to that safe haven that they prophesize about. I have to or I might go insane from hoping. I believe there is a place I can be safe again, I hope there can be a place like that, I just want to be there right now. I want these voices to stop, the twin speeches that get more eerie each time they are repeated. I have to walk faster, if I walk slowly they will speak again. I suddenly don't want to hear their voices anymore, the voices that had once been soothing but now only drive into my brain like the spikes of a mace.

"Buttercup, Buttercup!"

I hear another one, another eerie voice that calls out my name but I don't want to hear it. I feel something take me by the shoulders but I can see nothing but the darkness around me, my eyes not able to enlarge to allow me to see clearly. I stop walking to steady myself but immediately try and bring my hands to my ears. Knowing that the voices soon would come and urge me onward. Maybe this new figure would hurt me, maybe they weren't keeping me safe. All these thoughts run through my head but I can do nothing to stop the figure from pulling my hands back down to my sides.

I feel the pressing of metal into my hand and cry out in pain. Whatever had been holding my arms down now releases me and I bring my hands to my ears. Blocking out the dancing voices that bounce around me, some those of the familiar figures and one that echoes over the others. This one sounding more panicked, which frightens me even more than the first two.

When my hand reaches my ear I feel a sharp pain followed by a terrifying shriek that I recognize as coming from my own mouth. I feel thick liquid run down my throat and then across my arms, all the while beginning to feel dizzy from the pain emaciating from my ear. I stumble over my feet and fall forward, being caught just before hitting the ground by a frail pain of arms that nearly break under my weight.

"Lacey?" I have a sudden recognition of the panicked voice, remembering the soft words that she had spoken to me and matching it to the sickening tones. I hear a whimper and my eyes finally adjust to the dimmed arena, making out the bright, teary eyes of my last ally. She opens her mouth to say something but closes it soon after.

I remember the pain in the side of my head and bring up my hand to feel the warmed, sticky handle of Lacey's knife. The one she always keep in her hand after Sparks was killed, the one that now sits in my head and causes my thoughts to jumble together in a sickening chant. My mind begins to blacken once more and I am soon numbed to the warm caresses of a gentle hand on my cheek. As my eyes begin to glaze over and my vision goes dark, my mind turns to one last thought.

_The haven is near, soon I will forever be safe. _

* * *

**Chrysanthemum Dyme, District Eleven**

**Buttercup Rhodes, District Nine**

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Surrender**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile, deaths will be notified here.**

**I am terribly sorry to the creators that have lost their tributes, I do hope that you will stick around to see the progression of the story. If not then that is okay too and I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Characters were killed based on points, personality, and of course whether or not their creator reviewed. Hopefully no hard feelings if your character is gone.**

* * *

**I cannot believe how long it has been since I updated this, I had been trying to catch up on some collaboration stuff as well as get my new SYOT up and on its feet. But rest assured, I have not forgotten about this! This was one of the saddest chapters for me to write as Chryssa and Buttercup were two amazing and sweet characters. I will miss them both so much :'(**

**So what did you think of this chapter? Who do you want to make the Final 5? Who do you NOT want to make it? And finally, any early predictions for who our Victor will be ;)?**


	12. I Don't Look The Same

_I stumble through the wreckage, rusted from the rain_

_There's nothing left to salvage, no one left to blame_

_Among the broken mirrors, I don't look the same_

_I'm rusted from the rain_

* * *

**Lacey Thim 16, District Eight**

This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. I must have realized that people in this horrible place would die, but not her. I never imagined it to be her, why couldn't it have been me instead. I don't want to be here anymore, alone and broken. That's how I feel. Alone and broken.

I had woken up to the darkness, the darkness that still consumes us even a full day later. Everything was dark, covered in a thick black blanket that felt like it was smothering the remaining tributes. I'd reached out for her but my hand felt only air, and then wood. Nothing in-between. I had reached to the other side, but still my hand moved right through the thick air, stopping for nothing until it hit the heavy boards of the platform floor. That's when I got up, I jumped to my feet and started to run. I wasn't sure where I was going, and I still am not quite sure where I had been, but I ran nonetheless.

Of course I found her, there was never any doubt in my mind that I would. The Games are cruel this way, showing tributes things they think they want to see but never really do. She was there, near the four lights that both beckoned me further towards them for the comfort of sight, and away from them for I knew what they must be. The Careers, those things that I saw walking in front of her, the dark, faceless creature, they were taking Buttercup away from me. Leading her to the very thing that we had both worked so hard to avoid.

I caught up with her, just barely stopping her from crossing a thin bridge towards the lights, but as soon as I grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes I knew something was wrong. Her eyes, they were not the sweet, innocent lanterns that always graced her fragile face. There was something wild about them, something beyond broken that scared me into immobility for just a moment. Long enough for her to overpower the strength of my arms that had held hers in place at her sides. Long enough for her to bring her hands up to her face with mine following her lead as I watched her, unable to make myself move away. Long enough for me to watch her kill herself with my weapon. The one I never let out of my hands for fear of losing her, it was the blade that took the life out of her as I watched.

I could have saved her. I could have done something. Just like when Aras was being held by the raven-haired girl at the Bloodbath. Just like when Sparks died a few days later by the concealed knife of the same girl. The girl I hated for taking away my allies, the closest things to friends I could be allowed to have in this horrible prison. I couldn't hate her anymore, I couldn't. Maybe I didn't kill Buttercup, but I am to blame for her death. I had a hand in destroying my alliance. It was my own fault that I was sitting here all alone in the darkness that could be morning or night. I didn't deserve to be here anymore, I didn't even deserve to live in this hell. I should be dead.

I consider the bloodied knife that still lay in my palm, coated in blood that isn't mine. How easy would it be, to just die. I wouldn't have to be here anymore, I wouldn't have to suffer with the pain and grief that has racked me since the first day. I hold the blade up to my throat and tears run down my face, it would be so easy to be free again.

But for some reason I can't do it. The knife drops into my lap and I hang my head. I am even too cowardly to kill myself. Why can't I do it, why can't I just let myself leave this place now? I curl my fingers around the knife handle again but this time let my hand rest at my side, curling my body inwards as a shiver runs down my spine.

I can't take my own life because, the truth is, I still want to live.

**Bolt Fresia, 17, District Three**

The winds seem to whisper about me, causing every sound to be magnified in my ear and every vision to become that of a horrendous end. I reach up and rub my eyelids which feel incredibly heavy. I haven't been able to sleep since I woke up from the bug attack a couple days ago, I just can't allow myself to slip into unconsciousness again. So many things could happen, more mutts, other tributes, anything out here could kill me. And my mind has informed me of all the ways it can think of that I could die by the end of the day.

I can't even be sure that it is day, the sun has not made an appearance for many hours. I began to count as I walked, hoping the time would slip by faster than it seemed to. But the numbers would dissipate in my head before I could remember where I was, a number replaced by the haunting owl's hoot that shook me to the core and forced me to restart my time keeping. It should be morning by now, light, but it isn't and I don't know if it ever will be again. No one knows, only the Gamemakers who find amusement in torturing us mentally, physically, and emotionally. Only they know what will happen next, not us, not the ones who will bear the consequences of their selections. But if we knew there would be no fun in that, no one would care about watching us dodge obstacles we already knew were coming. They would rather see our bodies forced alight by a surprise fireball or watch us run from mutts that had no business existing out of childhood nightmares. That was far more fun for these monsters to watch, our suffering was what pleased them. The only triumph they wanted to bear witness to was that of their favourite tribute, the one with beauty beyond that of gold, or with the muscles of a god. No one cared about the other tributes, they were just casualties that made no difference to anyone but their fateful families, but even then their memory could be replaced. If I died right now, I would be remembered for as long as it took for the next kid to die, grieved for by my family for a few years maybe. But eventually they would move on, whether it took minutes or decades, my memory would be lost and then I would be forgotten.

Never did I really seek to stand out from everyone else, it just kind of happened that I became rather popular back in District Three. I tried to be kind to everyone, on the advice of my Father who told me that I never know who a person would become as the days went on, so I should always be nice to everyone. It was that advice that I lived by, molded my entire life upon being someone my Father would be proud of.

But none of that even mattered anymore, as I creep along in the dim arena I know that no part of my earlier life will matter anymore. It's only here and now, I can either win and be remembered for my victory, or I can lose and be utterly forgotten. These thoughts occupy my mind as I stumble onto another platform, this one feeling less stable under my feet but only because my legs sense something wrong and turn to jelly, in one last attempt to get me to stop walking. My foot catches on something that my eyes cannot make out and I fall to the ground, slamming my head off the wooden planks and causing me to cry out in pain. I try feverishly to stand up but something prevents me from doing so, I thrash around but realize it is useless, whatever is holding me down is too strong.

I take deep breaths to relax my body, straining my eyes in the darkness to see a long, vine-like structure creeping up the skin of my lower calf, silently reaching the bottom of my pant leg and continuing upward. I know what this is, well I don't know the name but the unnaturalness of the thing gives it away. This is some kind of mutt, sent here to trap me or possibly even to kill me. I find my face heating up with anger, no longer frightened by the creature that holds me. No, now the only thing I can feel is hatred, hatred that I was allowed to come this far, go through this much, and now I was going to die.

"Go on, kill me!" I scream at the top of my lungs, no longer caring who might hear me, "There is nothing you can do that could be worse than living in this hell!"

That last part trails off in a string of sobs as I realize what I guess I had always known, I really am going to die here. No one here to help me, completely at the mercy of whatever the Gamemakers choose as my punishment for challenging them.

My ears pick up a sharp wind change and I feel a sharp prick in my chest, at first I think only of those bugs that attacked me before and I begin to swat at my face. But then the agonizing scream comes, the ones escaping from my own lips, and my hands catch on the thin stick protruding from my chest. My hands clasp around the object and I pull it out, revealing the silverish gleam of metal that is tainted at the tip with bright red.

The pain tears through my body and I let my head fall to the ground, my hand still clutching the arrow that was shot at me from who knows where. Maybe at this point I should feel hatred towards whoever the arrow was shot by, but I know the truth. My life was not ended by a tribute fighting to save their own, no. The only enemy that I can point hatred at is the Capitol, for they are the ones that have killed me.

**Fin Aquil, 18, District Four**

_She stands over me with a knife in her slender hand, eyes cold as ice as she looks up at me, hatred and disgust on her pale face. I look down at my own hand and see I am holding a thin spear, pointing directly at my ally's heart. I look up at her and her face has transformed into a pleasant smile, her eyes squinting with the enormity of her grin. But I don't believe it, I know it's not real. This girl with the sweet smile is someone I cannot trust, and yet I trust her even now as I drop the spear to the ground, not knowing why I have done so. My eyes lock on her lips that remain curled up, but there is something sinister about the expression, but before I can figure it out something hits against my thigh and I feel a tingling sensation run through my body. _

My eyes flutter open but when I see the head of dark hair turned away from me I immediately close them again. It must be night now, the darkness has lasted all day but something inside me tells me that it is night. A lantern illuminates our small camp, just enough that when I squint my eyes open once more I am able to see what Gem is looking at in her stoic state. The sleeping body of Channing, the Career that had no business in ever being called a Career. Her body remains still but I can imagine her eyes flashing over his body, which leads me to wonder, what is Gem up to?

I have known from the beginning that I was not to trust anyone, not when death was just one wrong move away. But I knew just from training that Gem was someone that I should watch, she was not the typical District One ditz, no, far from that. She was smart, calculating, and knew how to do things that my mind could not even fathom. She had probably gotten the most kills in the Career Pack this year, not that I could remember how many each tribute had gotten. She was dangerous, and I could not trust her as far as she could throw me.

I glance over to Athena, where she lay with her head turned to one side, eyes shut tightly. My eyes flickered back to Gem just as I saw her lean forward, her black hair falling over Channing's sleeping face. From here I could only see his eyes and the tip of his nose, Gem's body covered the rest of his face, and his eyelids did not so much as flutter. Then I heard it, the unmistakeable sound of a cannon blast, and when Gem stood up and began to walk away from the group I saw it. Channing laying with the vulnerable flesh of his neck, torn neatly in a bright red smile across his skin. His eyes forever closed and his face looking as innocent as I had seen it, completely at peace in his final sleep.

Before I realize what I am doing, I jump to my feet and throw myself at Gem's retreating figure, tackling her to the ground where she lands with a shriek and a loud crash. She reaches up and punches me square in the jaw, and while the pain is almost immediate I don't let it show, instead choosing to launch myself at her once again as she attempts to crawl away. She throws herself to the side just in time and rises quickly to her feet, positioning herself in a defensive manner as I too move to stand.

"Why did you kill him!" I spit and watch as her face hardens into a cold glare, her lips completely straight as she stares me down. But I don't back away from her gaze, instead I welcome it and challenge her with a look of my own, telling her that I expect an answer.

"Because I don't trust him," she whispers fiercely, her eyes narrowing further as she takes a small step away from me. But I don't let her get away so easily, I match her backwards step and come closer to her, close enough to see the harsh rise and fall of her chest, indicating both fear and exhaustion.

"I don't trust you," I hiss and I see her lips curl into a cruel smile. Within seconds I feel a hard grip around my neck and the deep slash of a knife across my neck.

**Athena Roddrick, 17, District Two**

Fin falls to the ground at my feet, a thick pool of red forming beneath me from the blood pouring out of his exposed throat. I continue to hold the knife tightly, unwilling to allow Gem the advantage of the blade she holds should she choose to attack me. But for some reason I know she won't, it was always supposed to be two Careers at the end of the Games, and now we are the only two left. As if a silent agreement has passed over us, we both allow our hands to go slack, bringing our weapons down to our sides in sync.

Her face is not the sure, confident smirk I have come to be familiar with, instead it has some confusion about it. She knows she came close to dying just now, but she didn't. I saved her, despite what I think of the girl and her attitude, I know I can beat her. That is the only reason why Fin did not kill her, because I got to choose who I would face in a couple days. With only five of us left now it would not be long. I would much rather be standing toe to toe with Gem in the finale, she is slight and small, not to mention a year younger than I. Who would want to stand with Fin at the end? An older Career with the body of a tank, in a competition that almost always came down to sheer strength. I knew I had a good chance of winning if I had to face Gem, that is the only reason the mysterious, black-haired girl is still breathing.

"We're done," I breathe and she seems to understand. This alliance, it has lasted too long already. No emotional attachment was ever there, we were together for benefit and protection, nothing more. With only two of us left it would be foolish to continue on as allies. There are three other tributes to find, all of whom must die until the Capitol will force Gem and I together again. A showdown of the Careers, that is always what they want, a bloody battle with two capable tributes. Something to ensure the overall success of the Games.

She nods and backs away slowly into the surrounding trees, unwilling to take her eyes off of me for fear that I would go against my silent promise and attack her. But I don't, I just watch her figure eventually turn and jog along a rope bridge until she reaches another platform. I lose track of her after a few seconds, the darkness swallowing her body until I am left holding a dimming light to a still world.

I decide to move to a spot three platforms away, my knees collapsing on the cold planks as I reach a suitable spot. I reach for my backpack before realizing that I have left it at our first camp, so instead I find one of the packs of food stored away in the pockets of my thin sweater. I munch on the staled food until my stomach stops growling, we'd not known how long we would survive, rationing our food was the best plan, even if it meant that none of us kept fed the way we were used to being back home.

The anthem cuts through the night and I find myself flinching at the sudden noise, I am growing paranoid. Being by yourself must do that to a person. Not knowing when something or someone could attack you, in a way it was terrifying. But at the same time it was refreshing, knowing that you had only to rely on yourself. Knowing that your fate could be in your own hands, should you so choose to mold it in your favour. Maybe the Capitol could control your life, but you could control whether they saw your life as worth living.

The photos fill the sky, beginning with the male redhead from Three. I scrunch my nose up when I see him, I had not even remembered that he was still alive. That means what I thought was the final seven was really the final eight. It didn't matter though, he was dead now so who cares if I had forgotten to count his corpse? Channing and Fin show up next, one a symbol of my own accomplishment and the other of Gem's. Two strong contenders that were no longer a problem for me to face, but what did that say about Gem and I? We had each taken out one of the boys, did that make us evenly matched?

One might think so, but I knew differently from experience. There was always one light that shone brighter than the others.

* * *

**Bolt Fresia, District Three**

**Channing Keynes, District Twelve**

**Fin Aquil, District Four**

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Rusted from the Rain**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile, deaths will be notified here.**

**I am terribly sorry to the creators that have lost their tributes, I do hope that you will stick around to see the progression of the story. If not then that is okay too and I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Characters were killed based on points, personality, and of course whether or not their creator reviewed. Hopefully no hard feelings if your character is gone. **

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**I updated way earlier than I thought I would, so consider this a Christmas present (I would love something back ;P). I decided to add in an extra POV with Lacey at the beginning just to explain to all of you what exactly happened with Buttercup, as well as explain the mutt twist a bit more. Hopefully this cleared things up a bit better, but if you have any questions than ask me in review and I would be happy to answer :P We are getting down to the end of this, only two more chapters left! My goodness :O Anyway, tell me your thoughts on what is happening, as well as what you think of the Final Five! **


	13. Drown in My Mistakes

**Devil On My Shoulder by Billy Talent**

_I dug a hole so deep  
I'm gonna drown in my mistakes_

_can't even sell my soul_

_'Cause it ain't worth shit to take_

_I got the devil on my shoulder_

* * *

**Echo Osuushi, 16, District Seven**

Barley and I walk in near silence through the still dark arena. Nothing has much changed since the beginning of the Games, other than the obvious change of lighting, but I can handle that. Yes, I can. I'm strong, stronger than I had realized. Probably stronger than anyone watching ever thought too. I've realized what I'm capable of, and discovered things inside myself that I never would have thought possible.

Killer instinct.

Leadership.

Failure.

I was supposed to be the leader, the one that was put under the pressure of taking care of other people. I accepted this challenge and I failed. Three of my allies are dead. It`s my fault they`re dead. It was me whom they trusted their lives to and I let them down. I couldn`t do anything but watch with a cool expression, trying to keep the confidence radiating from me so that the ones left wouldn`t lose faith. That`s what a good leader does, and that was what I failed to do. I look over at Barley who walks numbly beside me. His eyes still have a glazed appearance about them and every once in a while I swear that I see a single teardrop dribble down his cheek and fall from his chin. It`s dark though, it could all be in my head. I don`t know what`s real or not, I though Dusty was real when he appeared to us all those nights ago. But he wasn`t, and the tears might not be real either, maybe he is stronger than I thought he was. Maybe he isn`t crying over her anymore, maybe he is finding a way to avenge her. Maybe he realized that it's because of my carelessness that she's dead. Maybe he's plotting to kill me before I can cause his death too.

I could kill him right now. I killed a Career, one of the tributes that supposedly cannot be killed. But they can, I know they can. It doesn't matter what everyone says otherwise, anyone in here is vulnerable to death. Including me. I should be dead right now but I'm not, and I have to believe that means something. No matter what people think this is not just a game of strength and brains, it's a _popularity _contest. The Capitol wants the Victor to be someone they can control, someone they can mould into a perfect example of what it takes to win. In exchange for complete obedience you get your life back. That's what I want now, I want my life back. I want to go home and see my Father, to help him in the yard like I always used to. It was boring before, a chore even. But now I would give anything to be back there, in that boring, predictable, safe life. The life where nothing would hurt me and I remained whole.

But I'm not there yet, I'm still here. Walking beside an ally who might hate me, who might be plotting my demise right now if I don't get him first. I can't bring myself to do it yet, not now. Maybe he isn't blaming me; maybe he still believes that I am going to get one of us home like I promised I would.

"Do you ever think about your family anymore," Barley's voice fills my ears and at the question I stop in my tracks. He does the same and stares back at me, our eyes locked for a few moments before he elaborates. "I feel like this is the first time I have actually thought about them since coming in here."

His head hangs in shame and I can see regret in his eyes even through the darkness of the air. I consider not answering him, but if he's talking to me I at least know what he's thinking. But when he looks up at me again I know I have to. "All the time."

"Oh," he whispers. "I just started to think about them last night, I guess I just didn't want to remember people that I wouldn't likely go back to. But now I'm so close, I can't help but picture the looks on their faces if I somehow found a way home."

This time it was my turn to "oh". I guess I had forgotten that I wasn't the only one with people waiting back home for me. It had never crossed my mind that there could be people watching Barley with hopeful eyes and direct stares, willing him to rejoin them and continue on with their lives. I say nothing more and he turns back to look in front of him, taking a few steps before I find the ability to join him in walking.

"What are they like," I find myself asking, but my voice isn't guarded like before. I actually want to know, I want to know about his family, about who they are and where he comes from. I don't know why, but I just do. "Your family I mean."

"They're a bit dysfunctional, different, weird even. But I miss them so much. My sister, Lyra, I think I miss her the most. She's only nine, but I hope that she stays young forever. It's too much work growing up."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Money's tight back home, it's hard on the folks, you know. I'm the oldest and I have to help out a lot, without the money I make I don't think my family would be able to eat all the time. My sister doesn't have to worry about that just yet, she's too young to work. But, I see the toll that my parent's arguments takes on her. I know she understands more than they think, probably more than I think too. I just don't want her to grow up so fast, I want to win this. I want to win this, _for her_. I don't know if they're going to be okay if I die, I just wish I could tell her that I am coming as fast as I can." I can hear the pain in his voice, the pain of a love and connection that I can't even begin to decipher. I don't say anything for a while, not knowing how to respond to what he has shared with me.

"Tell her then," I whisper, coming close to his face so that only he can hear me. "She's watching, it's mandatory remember?"

He considers this for a moment and I can hear the forced gulps as he painfully swallows air, I know I had talked to my Father when I knew everyone else was sleeping. It could do no harm to allow him the same luxury as I had had nearly every night. "I love you Lyra, and I'm coming home as soon as I can."

Barley steps onto a creaking bridge that sways with his weight. He continues walking but I pause at the end. The talk Barley had with his sister only reminded me of my Father, and how ready I am to get back home to him and District Seven. Just as he turns to question me as to why I have yet to move, I watch the surprise register on his face. His body disappears from view silently until I hear a splash from below.

A cannon sounds and I know this is it, I am all alone. Left with nothing but a knife gripped firmly in my hand and my own guilt for causing another death, this one intentionally. I send my silent apology to my last ally, the one who just wanted to return home to be with his kid sister. But I have a family too, someone I have to go home to, someone that is waiting for me. I can't show mercy, not for him and not for anyone. Not if I want to go home.

My footsteps echo as I walk away from the bridge, ends cut leaving me with nowhere to go but back where I had come from. I look back one last time before I jump onto the rope course we had taken to get here, staring with blank eyes at the cut ends of the rope bridge where I had cut from my life the only person who would be just as likely to help me as he would be to kill me.

But I'm not willing to take that chance, it's either me or him. And I'll pick myself over anyone.

**Lacey Thim, 16, District Eight**

I don't even know why I'm still here.

My alliance is gone, killed by things I couldn't protect them from no matter how much I wanted to. Lost to their families forever. They won't ever see their district again. Buttercup won't watch over the fence like she told me she always did, just sitting there watching the wildflowers flutter in the cool wind from behind an electric fence. She won't have to worry about getting too close, about hearing the hum of the electricity as it wore into her fragile ears. Sparks and Aras, they told me about their lives or chose to indulge in speaking aloud the memories that they would likely never relive. But they were thinking of them, they must have been. They were just kids, kids that missed their lives back in their district, their homes, and their families. Just like Buttercup did. Just like I do.

What makes me so angry is that all three of them were just like me, only kids. From little twelve year old Aras all the way up to Buttercup and Sparks who were seventeen, we're all just kids fighting for the right to live. Why am I still here? Why not Buttercup? Why not Aras or Sparks? It's not fair, what makes me so special that I have been allowed to live? Why not spare the innocents, let them live out their blissful, naive lives? Buttercup and Aras, neither of them truly understood these games. At least not to the point where you could read it like an inscription on their eyes. It wasn't permanent, they could have gotten over it. I know I'll never be able to do that. Death claims them but leaves me, the one that's been tainted and changed by this place ever since the first tribute fell. The one that night after night kept watch over her alliance, or whatever was left of it, all the while wishing for death to free her from this hell. But she's still here, I'm still here.

I'm not even sure if I want to live or die anymore.

Life would never be the same if I won and I know this, the nightmares and the images that would haunt your mind. The ones that Woof told me so much about. The constant watch that would be kept over you to ensure that you play nice and do what the Capitol wants you to do. Death would be an easy escape from this, from all of this and from the future. How simple it would be to pick up a knife and stab it into my own heart, it would be no harder than stabbing it into another's. How quick this could all be over. I would be with my allies, wherever it is the fallen tributes go. That could even be nowhere for all I know, but nowhere is better than here. Being lost must be better than being broken.

But if I die, this, all of this was for nothing. The deaths of my allies that allowed me to live just that little bit longer, the throwing away of my humanity when I killed the Four girl, the grieving, and loneliness. If I die, it would all mean nothing. If I die, there will be no one to remember them, no one to mourn their loss as they should be mourned. Buttercup talked of family, but what about the others? They cannot be forgotten, what they did in this place must be honored. If a Career won they would be forgotten, lost amongst the rest of the fallen tributes that were paid no respects by the Victor who caused their death. That's why I have to live, that's why I have to _win. _

And maybe there's a part of me that doesn't want to be forgotten either. A part that doesn't want to be just another fallen tribute.

I feel tears begin to stream down my face as my eyelids grown heavy. I look around me with groggy vision, seeing nothing and hearing no movement. I know I need to sleep, with the cannon that sounded just hours ago there is only four of us left. Soon the Capitol will have their finale, and after that their Victor. I allow my eyes to close and wipe the tears from my cheeks.

I will sleep now, and then I will fight.

I will fight for all of them, for Buttercup, for Sparks and for Aras. For my boyfriend and even my parents back in Eight. But most of all, I will fight for myself, because I don't want to die.

**Gem Smoke, 16, District One**

She looks almost peaceful, leaning against the solid tree trunk with a carefree expression. Free of this place only in sleep. I'm here to win, but there have been times where I wished I didn't volunteer at all. It's not the same watching these eyes fade away with their young lives, not when you're actually here to witness it or even cause it. I don't like how I feel now. Different. Changed. I always knew I would be a Career, I just never imagined it to be hard enough to break me. I didn't want to play like this, I didn't want to kill the innocents. I just wanted to win and to do that I have to make sacrifices. I know that now.

I knew many years before I volunteered that I would have no issues in killing the tributes that would be my allies. The Careers that had trained for this, that had asked for this. They were the only ones who deserved to die because they wanted to be here. I figured that once I got here I would be able to slip by unnoticed, not killing anyone until the finale where my opponent would almost definitely be a fellow Career tribute. That's what the Capitol always wanted, a battle between two worthy and capable tributes that had skills to back up their big egos. I worked hard so that I would be one of them, but I never thought of what would come in between my volunteering and victory. I never stopped to consider that I would have to kill anyone else. Three people. That was what lay between the Bloodbath and now, three lives that I took without a second thought. I remembered them after but never stopped to think about letting the others take over. I wanted to win, I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to live just like everyone else.

I was becoming a monster.

Walking through the night, I had tried to cry for those I had killed but found no tears in my tear ducts. I couldn't cry for them, I didn't know them and I never would. Their lives and deaths had had no effect on mine and as horrible as it sounded, I didn't care about any of them. I want to be sorry but I'm not, I did what I was supposed to do and no one would shame me for that. I wasn't at fault for doing what had been drilled into my head since I was a small child. They wanted to make me a killer but I never quite had the motivation to kill ruthlessly. I found the motivation, as it turns out it was inside me all along. The difference was that at the Academy, the worst thing that could happen was being pinned by an opponent. Later you would be helped up and shake hands with the one who had beaten you, any injuries you had would be attended to and life would go on.

But here there is no walking away from a fight if someone decides to pick one. The only one that would get up and walk away from the brawl would be the winner, the loser would bleed out on the floor with no nurses to tend to their injuries and only the crude loss to comfort them until death welcomed them into its arms. There would be no hand to shake if you won, and the prize would only come once every last one of your opponents was lying dead at your feet.

I never had reason to fight like I have in here before, losing wasn't something that shamed me. I learned from failing. But I figured out that there were no lessons to be learned in this place unless you were already half dead. Now I have a reason to want to win.

I pull a vial out of my small pack and twist it around my fingers a few times, starring at the peaceful face of the sleeping girl. I had no choice now, the audience would be watching, waiting for this girl's life to end. If I walked away now I would be a coward, a useless, idiotic, sorry excuse for a Career. If I walked away now, I would be kissing my chance at freedom goodbye.

I let out a deep breath and remove the cap from the tube and crouch down beside the sleeping tribute. Ever so slowly I tip her chin back, touching her ever so gently so as not to awaken her. I move her lips apart slightly and pour the contents of the vial into her mouth before stepping away from her. I rise to my feet and toss the now empty vial over the side of the platform and into the liquid below. I turn back to her, seeing no change except that the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest had nearly ceased. There would be no pain in her death, only sleep. She would feel nothing, and she would never wake up. I turn my head away from her and walk back the way I had come, my footsteps moving to the echo of her cannon. District Eight would not have a Victor this year, but maybe District One would.

Suddenly, I see lights thaw out of the darkness, a string of them that stretch far past my platform, all pointing in one direction. I know immediately that this is where I have to go, the finale was about to begin.

* * *

**Barley Haystack, District Eleven**

**Lacey Thim, District Eight  
**

**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Devil on My Shoulder  
**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile, deaths will be notified here.  
**

**I am terribly sorry to the creators that have lost their tributes, I do hope that you will stick around to see the progression of the story. If not then that is okay too and I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Characters were killed based on personality, storyline and of course whether or not their creator reviewed. Hopefully no hard feelings if your character is gone.  
**

* * *

**I absolutely adored Lacey and Barley, but I felt that their story arcs had all but came to an end. I love them both and will miss writing them so much! Thank you so much to Prototype 2 and thgultimatefan19 for these two amazing tributes!**

**And the final three is here, next is the finale and that will mark the end of this story! What do you think of the remaining tributes? Who do you want to win? Who do you **_**think **_**will win? **


	14. Moment to Reflect

**Definition of Destiny by Billy Talent **

_Won't you stop, take a breath_

_Find a moment to reflect_

_On the pure and simple choices_

_That we fail to see_

* * *

**Echo Osuushi, 16, District Seven**

I know it's the end; it must be because the darkness now has light. Small orbs of light that seem to float along a bright path to nowhere. A ring is visible at the ends of three light paths, one of them streaming from me and the others from two spots much further from me. Those must be the other two, the ones I have to fight soon so that I can go home to my dad.

"Don't worry, Dad," I whisper softly to myself but the wind takes the sound before it can reach my ears again, "I'll be home soon."

I quicken my pace along the bridges, there are many of them, all lines with lights so that I can actually see the boards in front of me before I place my foot down. It's so weird to be able to see after so long with darkness. See, I made the right choice, after I killed Barley the darkness left and the lights came on. It needed to happen. It did.

I almost wish it hadn't had to though.

I have grown so used to human company that I have forgotten what it's like to be alone, all of my steps are not plagued by thoughts of the people behind me. The people that are standing there with their eyes boring into me like insects. I didn't have to worry about anyone else but myself now, it was just me. Finally I could feel the freedom and I realize that that is all I really wanted. So long it had lasted, the impossible pressure that weighed down every step I took. The knowledge that one misstep would not only end my life, but would end those of people who trusted me to take care of them.

I laugh as I continue jogging across the bridges. That's where they went wrong, that's why they died. They put their lives in someone else's hands in a game where only one could win. It was suicide if you really thought about it. Only one of us could win and all of them; Barley, Chryssa, Dustin, and Dusty, they had put their faith in me. Of course I was going to be the one to come out on top of my alliance. I was the only one who had actually done anything. The rest of them had thought me a martyr, helping them to stay alive when they should have figured it out. I wouldn't keep them alive over myself. How could I? I wanted to go home too, and I wasn't going to put my life in anyone else's hands to get myself there. The rest of them would be returning home in coffins and I wouldn't be. That was the difference between all of us, that and the fact that I had only trusted myself.

The ring of lights gets closer and closer, my pace quickens even more, I'm eager to get this over with. To get back to my Dad after so long without him.

"I'm coming Dad," I mumble between heavy breaths, "I'm coming as fast as I can."

I think of who could be waiting for me when I reach the light ring. I remember the final five were announced last night, that being myself and Barley, the girl from Eight, and the girl Careers from One and Two. I know Barley's dead, of that much I can be certain. But who are my other opponents?

I remember the girl from Two well from Training, it would have been impossible to miss her. She lead the group of Careers with a steady voice and a hard ruling, but I can't remember her weapon. I find myself hoping that it is something technical, like traps. Something that I could easily avoid with a bit of luck. But I know that is unlikely, you very rarely see Career tributes with a knack for trapping or survival skills. More than likely her weapon will be deadly, and I can guarantee that if she is one of the two others left that I will be in for a rocky road home.

The other Career girl, from One, doesn't stick out as much in my mind. I remember what she looks like, her black- hair and pale skin having made an impression on my mind, but nothing else. She was fairly quiet, though, I can remember that much. I wrack my brain but again nothing comes to mind regarding her skills, though as was the case with Two, I assume them to be far above my own.

I really hope that the other girl is still alive. I don't think I can take on two Careers with just a hunting knife and a backpack. Careers with skill so far above mine that I cannot even think of what they might have in store for their last two opponents. I want to be against someone who is like me, someone that I have a fair chance at beating. I don't know if I can beats her, but I think I would have a better chance fighting her than I would have fighting off two honor-hunting, trained assassins.

The ring of light opens around me and I realize where we are. It's the Cornucopia of course, the platform elevated over the starting room. Just the memories that I can associate with this spot make me stop in place, still coated behind the darkness surrounding the platform. I hear two almost simultaneous thuds hit the wood and I know that they're here. Whoever I'm about to face I will have to do now. There isn't any more time to run, it's time to stand and fight because my destiny is in my hands and my hands only.

**Athena Roddrick, 17, District Two**

My feet land with and audible _thud _on the wooden planks of the platform. I keep my knife in my hand, ready to attack at any moment, as well as another tucked safely into my belt and out of view. I was lucky, when the Careers split I had been carrying most of the supplies. All the other backpacks that my allies carried had had things taken out of them and used, but not mine. I made sure of that. I'm not stupid, I knew the alliance would not last forever.

The lights seem to beat down on the final fighting arena, the place where a Victor would soon be crowned. It was strange to be in such total brightness after days and days of complete darkness, but my eyes had adjusted on the way back here. I was ready for this, so ready to go home. There were only two more left, two more until I could claim victory and return to my family.

I don't know what awaits for me there, but surely it has to be better now. Maybe my Father would look at me with pride instead of hatred, maybe when I proved to him that I was worth something he would stop blaming me. It wasn't my fault Mom left, no matter what he says to me it just can't be true. I never did something so horrible as a child that she would leave due to me. He only blamed me because I was smaller and more vulnerable after she left. I stopped sparring for months after that, I just couldn't put the anger and betrayal I felt into my weapon, because I was more hurt than angry. Chase helped me get over the self-pity I felt. He got me back to the Training Academy and back into being myself. Up until he betrayed me himself I had believed we were the perfect match, both deadly but careful. Not monsters but possibly something worse than that, monsters with feelings. Monsters that knew what they were doing.

But, like all good things, it didn't last long. Only a few months later had I found him in one of the private sparring rooms kissing another girl. I didn't break down like last time though, I didn't let myself feel sorry for myself or collapse in on myself again. I couldn't, there was no one left to drag me back into my life. If I had collapsed I wouldn't have come back.

I knew this and I pushed away the hurt and the betrayal until all I felt was the anger. All that bent up anger that pounded on my body and allowed me to become better. I wasn't just better though, I was the best. By age sixteen they had considered me ready to volunteer, and by this year they practically forced it on me. Not that I didn't want it, of course I wanted this. What else was left in my life if I wasn't going to do what I had buried myself in. If I wasn't a tribute I would be nothing, susceptible to taunts and abuse from my Father and arrogant winks from Chase.

Even if I wasn't a Victor, I couldn't let myself be nothing. Being a tribute was better, so much better, then being lost and broken.

My eyes scan the empty Cornucopia and then I look behind me to ensure no one had the sense to sneak up on me. It would be a smart idea after all, I know both of them are here. It had been impossible to hear the two thumps of landing feet when they hit the landing. I know they are here but where? Come on out you two, enough hide and seek we need to end this.

I see rustling in the darkness on the opposite side of the platform and my body tenses automatically in response. A darkened figure falls forward into the lit circle and their features are brightened until I am able to make out who they are. I remember her district but not her name, Seven. Her dark hair falls in front of her face, sticking roughly to the bright red necklace around her throat. Her pale body convulses for a second before her thin form goes still and her dark eyes glaze over. A cannon sounds and just like that we are down to the final two. Seven's killer is not a mystery to me, and when Gem steps out, kicking Seven's body away with the toe of her sneaker, I am in no way surprised. I always knew it would come down to us two.

The Capitol always wants the best finale they can have, and that always happens when the final two are Careers. From the moment I arrived in the Capitol I had watched each of my allies, figuring out their strengths and personalities and, more importantly, figuring out how to beat them. Gem never struck me as the type to be able to make it to the finale, she was the youngest of the Career pack and so thin that anyone could just snap her in half. But in the arena I realized the small girl might just pose the biggest threat to my victory. Sure enough here she is, a bloodied knife in her white-knuckled hand and a hardened glare in her eyes.

"Come on out Athena," she hisses as her eyes scan the tress in which I am watching her. "It's just you and me now."

**Gem Smoke, 16, District One**

I look around the dark trees that surround the platform for any sign of movement but I see none. I feel the wind caress my cheek and I wipe at my forehead. My hand comes back covered in a thin layer of sweat and my throat feels dry. I want to reach for my backpack and the water bottle in it but I don't dare lower my guard now. Not with victory so close and yet death just as close.

The heat is overwhelming, as if the Gamemakers had just turned the temperature from a chilling cold to that of a desert. I allow myself the time to roll up the sleeves of my jacket as my eyes continue to scan the circumference of the platform.

"I know you're here," I say, the nerves of just standing here when a knife could be aiming at my heart right now. "What are you, scared? Is the big, bad Career leader scared of losing?"

No answer, not that I thought there would be. I take a step in the direction I hope her to be hiding, trying to lure her out of her hiding spot. I stop and look around again, realising now that I am in the middle of the platform. I feel more secure now that I am away from the sides of the area and less likely to be killed the way I killed the Seven girl. She won't be able to kill me without me seeing her, and I'm ready for her. Come on Athena, stop this childish hiding and show yourself.

On instinct I throw myself to the ground when I feel her coming. She trips over my body and is sent sprawling onto the other side of the platform. We are both immediately back on our feet with weapons drawn for a ready fight. It's finally time, to show my Mother what I am actually worth. To show her I'm no worse than he and to show her I'm not a loser like she thinks I am.

I rush forward and tackle Athena by the shoulder, pulling both of us down to the ground. My hunting knife drives towards her head but she dodges it, once, twice, my weapon ends up stuck in the ground only for it to be pulled out again. Her knees shove me hard in the chest and I am sent flying backwards, landing hard on my right shoulder. I hiss in pain but am quick to my feet and running towards her again. This time, though, she is ready for me. She slashes her knife across my stomach before I can reach her, a thin cut that barely bleeds at all but causes me to shout in pain all the same. She round kicks me in the back of the knees and I fall to the ground with a hard _thud_. I lash out with my knife, managing to cut deeply into her thigh and she cries out, driving her own weapon down towards my face. I dodge it but just barely.

My body rolls away from her and when she tries to follow me, she collapses to the ground with cries of pain from her gushing wound. I stand up and rush towards her, stabbing my knife down into her side. She curls in around herself and I smirk down at her. Just look at her, the Career leader who ruled with an iron fist reduced to a curled up figure bleeding slowly to death. I look up and smile to the Capitol cameras, which are all no doubt focused in on the victory that is so close I can taste it. That smile was my biggest mistake and I realize it when pain suddenly stabs at my knee and a rush of arms and legs sends me to the ground beside Athena.

A punch lands on my jaw and I hear a chilling crunch. I feel another rush of pain go through my side and the feeling makes me scream out. My hands fly to my side and the blood rushes through my fingertips. I bite down hard on my lip and try to make myself stand up, but the pain leaves me frozen in place as Athena forces herself upright to stare down at me, her mouth filled with blood that she spits onto my face. Her lips are formed in a pained smile and her hand is clasped to her side, but the pride is unmistakable on her face. She knows she can beat me, but I refuse to believe it. I fight against the pain that racks my body to find my knife still clutched in my hand. I try and lift it but Athena pins my arm to the platform with her own knife, sending another wave of pain over my body, and pries my own weapon from my bloodied hand.

"It was an honor to fight you," she coughs and the pain is obvious when she moves the knife to sit atop my heart. "But only one can win."

The words barely register in my mind before another wave takes over my body, this time stronger than any of the previous ones. Then it leaves me, just like that and I feel nothing. No pain, just a calming numbness that comforts me as the world darkens and around me. A cannon blast echoes through my mind but it doesn't matter anymore, the pain is gone.

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"_Ladies and Gentlemen, the Victor of the 38__th__ Hunger Games, Athena Roddrick!"_

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_**Echo Osuushi, District Seven**_

_**Gem Smoke, District One**_

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**The artist theme for this story will be Billy Talent**

**Song: Definition of Destiny**

**The blog for this story can be found on my profile, the Graveyard has been posted, under the post **_**Thinking of You**_**! Check it out!**

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**I loved so many of these characters and each death took so much, from adorable Chryssa and Barely to the much hated Echo. From little Aras to the not so little Channing. Each one made me die a little inside to kill. I am really happy with the Victor and I hope that you are all too. **

**Thanks so much to SakuraDreamerz and DA Member Hogwarts who submitted Echo and Gem, they were amazing characters and I loved working with both of them!**

**And a huge congratulations and thanks to Trapped In Narnia who submitted our Victor, Athena! She was great!**

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**Now for some ending questions:**

_**Who was your favourite character?**_

_**Are you happy with who won? Who did you think would win?**_

_**Thoughts on the Graveyard?**_

_**Thoughts on the story as a whole?**_

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**And that is the end of **_**To New Heights! **_**Thanks to everyone who favourite, followed, and reviewed, I really appreciate it! **

**My new SYOT should be starting up in a few weeks so watch out for it! **


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